


Past the Surface

by BringOnThe_Snyazzy



Series: Great at Cop [1]
Category: Epithet Erased (Cartoon)
Genre: A Bit Of Backstory, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Blood and Violence, But it's mild violence, Canon Autistic Character, Cop Adventure, Detective Work, Developing Friendships, F/M, Forgery, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, Matter of Life and Death, Slow Romance, Trust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-28
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:22:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 23,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24365749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BringOnThe_Snyazzy/pseuds/BringOnThe_Snyazzy
Summary: After Redwood Run, Ramsey isn't too keen on being stuck in a cell, even a comfortable one, and Percy is scared of losing a chance at friendship, even if it's with a criminal. Their fears are assuaged when they get the chance to work together on a forgery case, but things take a turn for the worst when the situation becomes more dangerous than they originally thought.
Relationships: Percival "Percy" King & Ramsey Murdoch, Percival "Percy" King/Ramsey Murdoch
Series: Great at Cop [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1782286
Comments: 43
Kudos: 107





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I was super excited to write something for Epithet Erased because I love these two characters and their dynamic. I was especially excited to write about Percy because as an autistic person myself, it's awesome to see autistic representation in the media that isn't highly stereotyped. To my understanding, she was created to be ambiguous, so she's widely interpreted as autistic without it becoming her all-consuming personality. She really resonates with me and I felt like I could pour some of my personal struggles into this character.  
> I also like Ramsey and his rat face.

Welp, he hadn’t expected that. Ramsey sat in the back of a police car, watching officers cuff each Bonzai Blaster and shove them in the backseats of the other cruisers. He fiddled with his own pair, swinging the loose end around. Thankfully, Percy only left the one cuff on him. God knows how uncomfortable it is to sit in a car with both hands cuffed behind your back. Perhaps a few feet away, the blonde cop talked with another one, a ginger. They each glanced back at him every so often. He strained to hear the conversation, though all outside noise was muted. The quiet was appreciated, but was slightly negated due to the fact he felt like a kid waiting in the backseat while his parents argued about a divorce. Very awkward.

Ramsey’s stomach was carbonated with nervous energy. That day, he had been pulled—no, ripped—approximately 20,000 miles from his comfort zone. He had nearly died helping a cop and now, he had no idea what would happen next. Zero control over his life. Yeah, yeah, maybe he should have thought of that before pulling off all those extensively illegal stunts, but it sure worked out for a long time. Finally, Percy nodded and walked back to the car, a firm expression set on her face. The others were starting to leave as well. He gulped as she sat in the driver’s seat.

“So, what have the fates decided?” Ramsey asked.

“I will have to discuss matters with my superiors first,” Percy said, “but things may turn in your favor.”

“Are we talkin’ freedom, or…”

“Freedom to roam about your cell, yes.” She started the car. “Anything more than that, you’ll have to earn.”

“Let me guess. By working for the cops and marking each hour off my community service chart.” Absolutely wonderful. Just as he was growing fond of the lady, she hit him with this.

“You’re getting the picture,” Percy said curtly. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before pulling out on the road. Ramsey was going to ask for more specifics, but decided it would be best to keep his trap shut. She seemed awfully tired, which was understandable considering the day’s activities, but he wondered where that hint of detachment came from. He sank in his seat. The low hum of the car buzzed in his skull. In the lights of the oncoming traffic, Percy kept blinking and subtly shaking her head, her fingers drumming on the wheel.

“You alright up there?” Ramsey prodded. She silently stared at the road ahead.  _ Okay, I’ll just shut up, _ he thought, sinking further. Might as well not add to the bad mood. It was hanging like a thick cloud in the car and he could practically taste it.

After a minute, she responded. “I am unsure of how to answer that.”

“Eh? Typically, it’s a yes or no kind of thing.”

“Well, our physical activities were quite taxing, and deliberating with my peers after the fact only exhausted me further. However, a few good things came of today, and with the conflicting results, I can’t answer one way or the other.”

Ramsey shrugged, although she couldn’t see it. “So… I guess it’s complicated?”

“Most likely,” she sighed.

Ramsey leaned forward to get a look at her. Or, at least, as good a look as he could get with the separation between the front and back of the car. Earlier she had been the perfect model cop, the golden child, but she seemed to be wilting. He couldn’t quite get a read on her. The next hour or so passed in silence until they reached the police station. The lights were awfully bright and it turned the other cops to shadowy figures. Anxiety festered as a cold lump in his stomach. He didn’t like the amount of uncertainty the coming days had. At least he had control over his life when he was on the run. There were few words exchanged as he was ushered to a holding cell.

“This is only temporary,” Percy said. “We’ll find a spot for you at the prison in the morning.” With her eyes shut and brows furrowed, she pinched the bridge of her nose.

“If you leave your face like that, it’ll get stuck there forever. You don’t wanna end up looking like me, right?” Ramsey teased. It didn’t really work as she directed her stare at him. Yeesh. “Hey, ‘till next time?”

“Yes,” she muttered, leaving him behind bars. She seemed lost in thought, hardly aware of the people around her. He watched until she dipped around the corner. What a character.

***

Arriving home, Percy nearly collapsed out of her car. Her eyes could barely stay open. However, the physical sacrifice was all in the name of justice. Her satisfaction with the day’s work outweighed how worn out she felt. Or, at least, that’s how it played out in her mind. She was still  _ really  _ tired. The night chill shook her as she climbed the metal stairs of the apartment complex. She went slower than she would have preferred, attempting to make the least amount of sound possible. Those stairs were awfully clangy. Stepping through the door of her home, she made her way to the kitchen and ate a slice of bread. The act was a departure from her usual meal schedule, but she allowed herself the luxury due to her exhaustion. Maybe she would even treat herself to some butter the next morning to celebrate the recovery of the Arsene Amulet.

Ignoring her overwhelming need to bathe, she slipped into her pajamas and went straight to bed. The mattress was cool. Her fingers drummed the sheets as she mentally reviewed the events of the day. Redwood Run. Sheriff. Bar. Giovanni Potage. Train. Zora Salazar. Gold. Amulet. And that strange man. Although their alliance was uneasy to say the least, his companionship was a welcome change from her usual isolation on the job. And with his new position as Sweet Jazz City Police’s appraiser, she wondered if she would ever work with him. She had a mild hope that their partnership would happen again. On second thought, it was perhaps more of a longing. It was rare that she clicked with someone like that, worked so well with someone. She always made an effort to be amicable with others, but she only ever made a handful of acquaintances, and even fewer friends. Come to think of it, she didn’t think she had any best friends, like in relationships she saw in books and movies. Her heart went from a leisurely walk to a light jog. Was she wrong for not having friends? No matter. She asked that question to herself practically every other night, and she never got an answer.

“Perhaps if my brain would actually lie dormant for once, I could sleep,” she mumbled to herself.

***

Apparently, nobody wanted to deal with Ramsey.  _ The weird rat man. Where’d he get the scar? What a creepy eye. _ The way they were talking, they must have thought he didn’t have ears either. But, he didn’t mind too much. He was used to it. It just got a little frustrating when  _ every single _ guard ignored his presence completely. If only one of them would grow a pair. Whispered conversations between the guards gave him all the information he needed, though. A new job cropped up for him and they needed to find the right babysitter. A cop ranked high enough to keep a high-profile convict in check, but also ranked low enough to take the orders to keep a high-profile convict in check. Office politics, right? Ramsey reclined on his prison bed, staring at the window above him.

He was getting impatient, but it’s not like he had any plans that night. Hm. Perhaps his impatience didn’t come from the lack of something to do, but rather that he had no idea who he would be doing it with. Worse case scenario, he ended up with some scary dude that scrutinized his every move. What he was hoping for was a chance to work with Percy again, although he wouldn’t have admitted it. She seemed smart, dedicated. Likeable. A person that didn’t wince at the visage of his scar or treat him like a sex offender at first sight. But there were dozens, if not hundreds, of cops out there. The chances would be slim.  _ Eh, best not to get your hopes up, champ. _

Eventually, he heard his cell door creak open. “Welcome to my humble abode, just make yourself comfortable,” he greeted.

“You’re needed up front, Murdock,” a gruff voice said.

“Finally,” Ramsey mumbled, holding out his arms for the man to eraser-cuff him. He traipsed along behind the cop, shooting smirks and finger guns at the other prisoners, but a stern look from the man made him stop. Nervousness made his heart start to pump, but he hid any sign of weakness. Prison was the last place to show weakness. “So, who was brave enough to take me on?” he asked as they went through the doors and to the front lobby, trying to shake off the iciness rising in his chest.

“We had to beg for volunteers, but we found one,” the man growled.

“I’m just that likeable, eh? A joy to have in class?” The comment only received a distasteful grunt. Ramsey had to hold back a sigh of relief upon seeing a familiar face greet him at the front door. He had been hoping that he wouldn’t end up with some rando cop and work with the awkward energy of a blind date. Half blind, maybe.

“Hello, Ramsey. Are you ready to atone for your crimes?” Percy said with a pleasant smile. Her hand rested casually on her real-ass sword and the morning light illuminated her hair into a mane of fire.

“Maybe not that dramatic, but that’s the idea, yeah,” he clarified, sidling up to her and away from the burly guard. As they left, he flashed cloying grins at everyone in the lobby. He thrived off their looks of disgust. In some way, he felt he had partially beaten the system. Passing through the front doors, he felt the glorious sun as a partially free man for the first time in… about a day. It felt much longer, though. Percy led him to one of the many police cruisers in the parking lot. How she knew which one was which would always remain a mystery. “This our getaway car?”

“No, it’s a police car,” Percy said, opening the passenger door for him. Heh. That was such a Percy thing to say. She ran around to slide in the driver’s seat, taking a moment to unlock his cuffs and toss a case file on his lap. How exciting. It was just like those buddy cop movies.

“So, what’s the story?” he asked, opening the folder.

Percy checked her mirrors and adjusted her seatbelt. “You  _ are  _ literate, aren’t you?”

“Pff, of course I’m literate! I figured it’d be faster to ask you first!”

“I apologize. You never know what each person silently struggles with.” She seemed serious. “Anyway,” she continued, pulling out of the parking lot, “it appears that there’s some sort of fraud ring happening under the noses of the museum staff. Suspicions arose when they were unpacking art for a new exhibit and the pieces weren’t packed up to code. Shipping labels appeared fake as well. We must identify which paintings are forgeries, who created them, and where they are located.”

“Sheesh, the museum’s got a forgery problem? They oughta be more careful, hire an appraiser or somethin’.”

Percy only glanced at him with a raised eyebrow and a held back grin.

“Oh yeah, guess that’s my job now,” he said. He hadn’t meant to sound stupid, but apparently, you are what you eat or whatever.

Chuckling, she said, “Yes, but first we must procure you a change of clothes. We can’t have you looking like a dollar store juice box, can we?”

“Oh boy, a shopping spree courtesy of the cops. What merriment to be had,” he commented sarcastically.

“Worry not, it’ll just be a quick stop at the department store. Twenty minutes tops.”

Wonderful. Ramsey stared out the window and bit his cheek. The last time he went clothes shopping with someone was probably when he was a teenager with his mom dragging him to the nearest thrift store. Those weren’t the most pleasant times. Upon entering the store, he immediately noticed the stares from surrounding patrons. He couldn’t say he was surprised. Hey, a uniformed cop and the dude with a golden eye were quite the pair. Percy was either oblivious or just ignored the attention, making a beeline to the mens’ clothing section. Maybe he just needed to be more positive like her or something.

One staring face, however, stood out from the rest. Ramsey squinted, digging in the deepest recesses of his memory to find out who that guy was. Among the racks of clothes stood—it couldn’t be—a contact. Yeah, it was some kid he worked with a while back creating forgeries to scam some rich guy. Though his skin was normally a deep tan, the kid turned white as a sheet upon seeing Ramsey’s company. He threw out his arms to communicate his agitation, then ducked behind a clothing rack before Percy could see him.

“I was thinking that a nice collared shirt with a pair of slacks would provide a sufficient facade of professionalism,” Percy stated, browsing the shirts. She picked a few, holding them up to him. Frowning, she neatly folded them and put them back, beginning to further analyze each color. She was so careful and thoughtful. He kinda liked that.

“Yeah, yeah, sounds great,” Ramsey muttered. As she looked around, he shrunk away when her back was turned. He kinda felt… bad. But he thought he better check up on the kid.

Behind a shelf of shoes, Somethin’ Somethin’ Riviera was hunched. Ramsey couldn’t quite remember his entire name. “The hell are you doing here?” the kid demanded. “And with a cop! Are you following me? Gonna rat me out?” The kid’s distrust of everyone and everything was quite annoying.

“Wha– no! Look, it’s complicated, but I’ve been incarcerated and—”

“Ya got caught?”

“Yeah, let me finish! The cops got me working for them to complete my community service hours. Just some appraisal stuff.”

“So you’re not hunting me down?” Riviera asked, looking less frantic.

“Nah, I just gotta get some nice clothes so I don’t look like an idiot to the museum staff,” Ramsey said.

“The… museum?” The kid was starting to look a little green.

“Uh uh. What are you doin’ here?”

“J-just buying some new socks, nothing special,” Riviera squeaked. “Hey, forget you saw me here, alright? I could get in some major trouble, you knowin’ what you know about me and all.”

“I never saw ya,” Ramsey said, slinking back to where Percy was. Jeez, it was a wonder that kid hadn’t gotten eaten alive, being so antsy all the time. Then he remembered that the kid was all bite and no bark. Truly something to behold if anyone pushed him hard enough. It wasn’t too difficult, though. His defensive nature was never far below the surface.

“There you are,” Percy said with a sigh of relief. “I thought I had lost you. I know that shoes are wonderful articles of clothing, but don’t fall for their temptations. Anyway, I assumed these would be your size.” She handed him slacks, a dark red button-up, and dress shoes with black socks. She looked pleased with her choices.

Ramsey checked the tags. They were  _ exactly  _ his size. He shot a look of incredulity at Percy. That woman must have been psychic. “Yup, looks great. Let’s go,” he said, making his way to the front of the store.

“You don’t want to try them on?” Percy asked, tagging along behind.

“Nope, they’ll fit alright.” They made the purchase and Ramsey went into the bathroom to change. Before he left, he blew a kiss to the sexy gerbil man in the mirror. On the way back to the cruiser, he saw the Riviera kid running to the nearby bus stop out of the corner of his eye. What a weird kid. Shrugging, he got in the car.

Percy left the key in the ignition and immediately fixed him with a steady stare. What was that about? He flashed an uneasy smile back. Was he in trouble already? “Are you going to tell me?” she asked.

“Heh, tell you what?” He could feel the eyes of the universe on him.

“I know you were talking to that young man,” she said, nodding toward a lonely Riviera sitting at the bus stop bench.

“Thought you didn’t see me.”

“Through the powers of justice, we on the police force become omnipotent beings. Or at least—” she started the car “—that’s how we pretend to be. However, my heightened senses aided me in the detection of nefarious acts this time. So, I’d like you to tell the truth.” She looked at him expectantly.

“I, uh, that was just some kid I recognized from the dark ages, ya know? Bumped into him a few times during my more illegal escapades. He wasn’t, like, doing anything illegal though. I just stopped on by to say hi!” Ramsey smiled nervously, hoping that explanation would suffice. It was the full and complete truth, after all, something he wouldn’t normally tell a cop. It was slightly vague, though.

“Alright,” Percy said, “that answer is satisfying enough. I’m glad that I can trust you to an extent.”

Ramsey felt a twinge of guilt tighten his stomach. That was a sentiment he didn’t often hear. A sentiment he didn’t often deserve.

“Oh, you still have a tag on your collar,” she mused, leaning over to tug it off. Her gloves brushed the back of his neck. “You look nice, by the way.”

“Ah, thanks,” Ramsey stammered. He bit his cheek and looked out the window. That sure was something. He wasn’t expecting to be touched and Percy didn’t seem like the touchy-feely type. Or maybe his thoughts just dwelled on it too long.

The museum emerged from the skyline as if birthed by the gods themselves. It rose tall and proud, standing out from the surrounding buildings. The marble steps and decorative columns shone with the afternoon light. He noticed that Percy had a subdued grin on her face and practically leapt from the car as soon as it was parked. “What’s got you so excited?” Ramsey asked.

“Only the art that stands before us. This is a masterpiece of a building!” She flew up the stairs and through the doors, making it difficult to keep up. “Observe the gorgeous design choices and the open layout. It’s a balance of practicality, order, and beauty. Truly, a fine specimen of architecture,” she gushed, rocking on the balls of her feet. The sword danced at her waist and her hair flounced about her face. It was sort of a cute display. Percy abruptly stopped herself and smiled sheepishly. “It’s a rare opportunity that I'm able to perform my regular duties within such hallowed halls. I apologize for letting my childish excitement get the better of me. Anyhow, the displays in question are in the storage room.” Ramsey tried to hide his amusement and followed her.

Clouds of dust filled the storage room, illuminated by the light slanting through the windows. It was a mess of shelves and crates. There were also some worrying cracks crawling up the walls and a very obvious chunk missing from the air vents. Percy looked displeased.

“You’re here!” a simpering voice called out. A short old woman rushed to shake their hands. “Oh, I don’t know what I would have done without you!” A badge on her chest identified her as the manager. “What can I do to help?”

“No worries, citizen, for it is our duty,” Percy said. “My associate here will be examining any suspicious artifacts. I promise you we’ll get to the bottom of this.”

“I’ll probably need a tape measure and a loop, if you’ve got one,” Ramsey said.

“Yes, right away.” The woman scurried off.

Ramsey looked around the room. It was certainly nothing compared to the grandeur of the rest of the place. Portraits were piled in stacks that seemed structurally unsound. Sorting through those would be a joy. Yeesh, the staff could have at least tidied up.

“Out of curiosity, what is a loop? I’m afraid it’s not a part of my vocabulary, at least in the context you’re using it in.” Percy asked. She stepped around boxes and chunks of plaster, looking at him curiously.

“Oh, it’s just a small magnifying glass, you’ll see,” Ramsey said. He started to lay out the paintings, leaning them against the walls. “Do you know when these were shipped and when they arrived? Having a time frame might be useful.”

“They arrived one day ago. As for when they were shipped, it varies for each one. They were shipped from various places around the world and were gathered roughly a month ago at a shipping facility a few hours away. From there, they came together by truck. Nothing appeared to be out of order until their arrival here. The security cameras didn’t pick up anything suspicious either. Just employees unloading boxes.”

“Hm.” So the switcheroo most likely happened within the last month before the art arrived at the museum, meaning that maybe a handful of the more popular paintings would be forgeries, depending on the museum’s publicity about the new exhibit.

The old woman came back, handing him the materials along with a list of the paintings. Just like that, she vanished again.

“Welp, I suppose I’ll just go down the list,” Ramsey muttered. Woah. Seriously, woah. The list didn’t just have some paintings on it. It had some big names. He looked over at Percy, who skimmed the list blankly. She didn’t seem to realize the reputation of the artwork. Eh, maybe he was as ignorant about architecture as she was about fine art. “First one’s  _ Girl at a Window.  _ Rembrandt.”

“This one over here seems to match the description,” Percy pointed out.

Ramsey crouched in front of it. “Do you have your phone on you?” She unlocked it and handed it over. Ramsey pulled up a picture of the painting and held it next to the one in front of him. He was in awe at the craftsmanship before him. The soft colors, the gentle look on the girl’s face. This piece had a special place in his blackened heart, especially since he had done a study of it back in art school. He worked on that one for weeks. But, unfortunately… “Definitely a fake,” he decided after a few minutes.

“That was fast. How can you tell?” He could feel Percy at his back, looking over his shoulder. She crouched beside him, trying to get a better look.

He handed her the loop. “If you look closely, the paint is hardly layered at all. Oil’s thick and it builds up as someone paints, but it’s obvious these guys traced it and painted over it pretty quick. That and it was aged chemically. And if you look at the “b” in the signature, it’s not quite the right shape.”

“Incredible. What sharp eyes you have.”

“Aw, shucks.”

“It’s a testament that all evil will not go unnoticed by the law.”

“You oughta be the poster child of justice,” Ramsey commented, marking a line through the title and looking for the next painting on the list.

***

Percy followed Ramsey through the maze of artwork in the storage room, unable to get over the disarray. The theft of the amulet happened not four days ago, giving the staff plenty of time to at least neaten up in preparation for reconstruction. Ramsey was absorbed with his work, so she quietly flicked her fingers, mending cracks in the wall here and there. Unfortunately, the damage was too extensive to fix in the moment. The fallen air vent alone would take a massive amount of stamina. Her eyes followed the cracks by the entrance to see a single security camera above the door. It was angled in such a way that the area immediately below it and the adjacent length of wall were likely in the blind spot. Part of the room was obscured from its sight by shelves and boxes. Perhaps, this whole messy situation would call for an upgrade in security and organization. But, no matter. It wasn’t their priority at the moment.

The appraisal process went fairly quick as Ramsey spent only about five minutes on each work. The light shining through the windows became warmer, more orange as the day drew on. “Sloppy. This one’s three centimeters too small,” he would say. “The color’s off. This shape is wrong. There’s brush bristles left in the paint.” She was in awe at how well he could locate the smallest deviations from the original. He seemed to be enjoying himself as well, perhaps because he was so in his element.

“Found another fingerprint on the surface here,” he announced.

Percy carefully dusted it, lifted it, and placed it in a plastic bag. They had found two others thus far and were hoping that it would be the fast pass to identifying the culprit. There was always the possibility that they could simply be the fingerprints of employees, but it seemed unlikely, at least for one of them. Two of the fingerprints were found on the flat surfaces of the frames, which could have been left by employees, but one was on the smooth part of the face of a painting. Surely, the employees themselves wouldn’t be so careless as to touch the paint itself. That one had to have been left by the painting’s creator.

“ _ The Mill  _ by Claude,” Ramsey muttered, locating the next painting.

Percy looked over his shoulder, carefully observing the painting. Her fingers drummed on the side of her leg. It was certainly a beautiful work. “I think it may be fake. That man’s arm is raised at a slightly odd angle compared to the picture on my phone,” she said.

“Hey, you’re getting pretty good at this,” Ramsey said with a lazy grin.

Percy felt warmth at the praise. It was exciting to engage in another person’s special interest. Perhaps he was as interested in art as she was in architecture. He would make infrequent comments on the beauty of some of the paintings, complimenting the colors or the composition. Even the fake ones were adaptations of a beautiful work, after all. After three hours, they had searched each of the 36 paintings on the list.

“I can’t believe it,” Ramsey said.

“Every single one is a fraud,” Percy finished. “What are the chances of such a feat?”

Ramsey paced in a circle. “Impossibly slim. Normally, it would be a handful of the more popular ones. But at such a large scale in one month… Frankly, I’m impressed. That’s millions upon millions worth of some of the most famous classical artwork in the world.” His voice betrayed how flustered he was at the mere thought of such an act.

Percy walked out of the storage room, Ramsey following. All 36. Incredible. Incredibly illegal. She hadn’t noticed how warm it was back there until she felt the cool air of the halls. It was befuddling how one could pull off such a large scam. Producing that amount of paintings alone must have been an arduous task, not to mention replacing the whole lot while evading detection. It would have taken months of planning, but how would one know which paintings to create so far in advance? Possibilities rolled over and over in her mind until she settled on the most plausible of the bunch.

In the front hall, she stopped, tapping her chin with a gloved hand. Ramsey looked at her curiously. “It was an inside job,” she declared. “That would explain how the culprit knew which paintings to forge and why we could only find evidence of employees that were in the back room. An employee would also know the camera’s blind spots. If this were the case, the guilty party would also be trusted to handle the paintings and would know when to intercept the originals. Additionally, they could possibly have other contacts within the company. We should take these fingerprints down to the precinct and get them tested. My theory narrows down the pool of possible matches, at the very least.”

“Great work, detective,” Ramsey said, slowly nodding. “That sounds like the only realistic situation.”

“An unfortunate betrayal,” she lamented, walking down the marble steps at the front. She couldn’t imagine double-crossing her comrades in the police force as that employee did to his coworkers. The sun was sinking, sending brilliant golden rays.

Ramsey looked back at the door a few times on the walk back to the cruiser. “Shouldn’t we update grandma?”

“No. For all we know, she could be in on it. It’s disgusting the lengths one may go to in order to undermine a whole establishment.” She saw Ramsey flash a guilty look. “O-of course, the insult is nothing personal,” she corrected, grinning with comparable guilt. That might have been a tad insensitive despite her disapproval of all criminal activity.

In the car, Percy carefully placed the bag with the prints in the glove compartment. If her hunch was correct, the case would be solved very soon. At the back of her mind, she couldn’t help but worry about the lack of solid evidence thus far. Her musings were based solely on conjecture and logical thought, not actual proof. She’d have to see how far the prints would help them progress toward an answer, then find more evidence if needed. As an officer of the law, she had to be fair and just in all of her doings, providing an objective and evidence-based analysis of the situation.

“That was a good day of work, now wasn’t it?” Ramsey said, reclining in the passenger seat.

She had gotten so deep in her thoughts she almost forgot about him. “Yes, you’re doing well,” Percy said, starting the drive back to the police station. She felt Ramsey’s gaze on her for a moment before he stared out the window.

“What’s gonna happen next?” he asked.

“If all goes according to plan, the prints will identify an employee and we can then obtain a warrant to search his or her home. Perhaps we could go back through the security camera footage to find the thief once we have a face to match the prints. Anyway, are you hungry?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact.”

She felt a little bad. She heard his stomach growling as they worked, but didn’t think about it too much. He would have eaten breakfast at the prison and then she picked him up mid-morning, meaning he wouldn’t have eaten for… seven hours. Oops. He was probably starving on her account. She turned to him with an apologetic look. “I’m incredibly sorry. I often get so focused on a task that I often forget to eat. Or drink. Or rest.”

“That sounds about right,” Ramsey said with a grin. “But don’t worry ‘bout me. I just hope you don’t keel over and die on the job. They’d think that I murdered ya.”

“We can’t have that,” Percy said with a chuckle. That was kind of funny considering their unique situation. There was a convenience store nearby that they could stop at on the way to the precinct.

“Seriously, though, I hope you take care of yourself,” he said, mild worry crossing his face.

Caught off guard, she wasn’t quite sure how to reply to that. It was comforting to hear the sentiment, so she smiled at him. In the convenience store, Percy walked down the aisles looking for something healthy and substantial. Most of it was candy and snacks, but she found a box of salad that would suffice. She watched Ramsey drift toward the corn dogs and burritos. Oh no. She could already see the poor man’s arteries hardening. Stepping over to him, she tapped his arm. “Might I suggest something down this aisle? There are more nutritious options that could be of great benefit to your health.” Her face felt warm and she hoped that she didn’t overstep any boundaries.

“Aw shucks, at least someone cares about my health,” he said, following her to the indicated aisle.

She inwardly sighed with relief as he chose a sandwich. “Remember to properly hydrate as well.” Apparently to him, that meant to pick a highly caffeinated energy drink. No matter, one wouldn’t kill him. However, she couldn’t help but worry when they walked to the register.

“Now this is a real energy-booster,” Ramsey teased when he noticed her look of concern. “I hope you enjoy your normal water that’s marked up 300% because it has a hint of pineapple.”

“Oh, I will. I bet it will be the tastiest thing I’ve ever drank in my whole life,” she shot back, handing the cashier a bill. She often found that the implausibility of hyperbole made for lighthearted conversation. After leaving the store, they sat in the car and ate in silence. Vigor began to return, making her confident that she could endure the last stretch of the day. She noticed that Ramsey was tracing the words on his energy drink with a finger and wondered if that was a habit of an artist.

“I remember back at Redwood you said you have an art degree,” Percy said. She felt as if they were becoming friends, so she was interested to learn more about him. That’s what friends did, right?

“Hm? Oh, yeah.” He looked mildly surprised at the topic of conversation. “I went to a decent school on the coast. They must have had some crappy candidates that year, because I’m pretty sure I got in flyin’ by the seat of my pants.”

She cocked her head, confused. He had always seemed… confident in his skills, considering his experience. Of course, she had never seen any of his work in person, so she couldn’t assess his skill level and provide him assurance. However, he must have been talented, if his career in forgery was anything to go by. “Don’t say that,” she said, hoping that the words she chose were comforting, but vague enough so that she wouldn’t be accused of saying it just to be nice.

“Nah, nah,” he said with an exaggerated wave of his hand. “It was a series of flukes, I’ll tell ya. My test scores barely passed their standards and my high school art teacher was kind enough to talk to people, make my portfolio look good for the recruiters. She helped me apply for scholarships, otherwise I wouldn’t have been able to afford it. The lady even drove the eight hour round trip to get me up there. She was an angel.”

“How wonderful!” Percy felt warmth in her chest. In the line of duty, she sometimes forgot why she became an officer in the first place—to help people.  _ That  _ was truly an act of selflessness and goodwill. She hoped that she could be an angel to someone too. But why the art teacher? “Your parents couldn’t take you instead?”

A forlorn expression came over Ramsey’s face and he looked away. “No. Even if they were alive, they wouldn’t have cared. Good riddance, I say.”

Her chest twinged. “I-I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have upset you.”

“It’s fine, I ain’t mad at you. It’s just…” He stared absently at his hands. “They kept a roof over my head, made sure I kept up in school and everything, but we were never really a family. We just happened to live in the same house together. Then my dad just had some heart trouble and once he was gone, mom overdosed. But it’s in the past. Bygones, right?”

“Right.” Did she pry too much? Was she allowed to know that? It wasn’t often that she shared personal information with other people. All the same, it was nice to know that he trusted her. She started the drive back to the station, deciding not to say anything more. Perhaps she could use body language to convey sympathy? She wasn’t sure how.

“About earlier,” Ramsey began, breaking the silence, “when I asked what was going to happen next, I, uh, what I meant to ask is what would happen to me.”

Any enthusiasm Percy had wilted at hearing that. She glanced at him before directing her attention back to the road. His eyebrows were slightly raised and his mouth was a tight line. He had pretty much done his part, except for maybe accompanying the search for the real artwork. And then back to prison. The thought made her unhappy. He was proving himself to be a decent partner, and even more than that, a good person. “I… don’t know.”

“I was kinda getting invested in this whole crime-busting thing.”

“I’m unsure of the degree to which my superiors will allow you to contribute. But for what it’s worth, I think you’re a great partner.” She looked back at him. His expression changed to his signature lazy grin. She smiled back, glad that she was able to properly communicate the sentiment.

Vertigo overtook Percy. Loudly. Very loud. Unbearably loud.


	2. Chapter 2

Ramsey had to catch his breath. His chest was on fire. His brain sloshed around in his skull. Dust and gasoline assaulted his nose. He opened his eyes to see cracks on the windshield in an elaborate spiderweb. The hood of the car was crumpled. Percy was slumped in her seat, blood pouring profusely from her nose. She wasn’t moving.

“W—what ha—ppened?” he gasped. Speaking was like coughing up rocks. He tried to unbuckle his seatbelt, but his hands were shaking so badly that it took him three times longer than it normally would. His breathing got faster and sharper, sending hot waves of pain through his chest. It hurt so much he was sure his lungs would collapse, but he couldn’t control it. His heart slammed against his ribs, building speed with every second.

He heard a knock at his door. Looking up, he saw a concerned woman standing there. It took him a moment to process what to do, but he got around to reaching for the handle. Numb fingers did him no good.

The woman helped him open the door all the way. “Are you alright, sir?”

“I… uh…” He could barely stop choking on air to even speak. He looked back to Percy and a chilling panic swept through him. He had felt like this before, long stretches of powerlessness and dread, but it had never been so consuming.

“You’re probably in shock. Don’t worry, someone already called 911. We saw that van swerve out of the opposite lane and hit you. That other car rear-ended you and your car spun out.”

“O—kay…” Nausea gripped his stomach and he couldn’t help but relive the moment of the crash in his head over and over again. It happened so fast that he couldn’t remember seeing what happened, but he felt the impact. The sudden stop and slamming against the airbag, seatbelt, and dashboard. He felt like death was looming over his shoulder. Would he die from complications? Was Percy already dead? After a solid five minutes, he felt like he had a grip on himself again. The woman was gone.

Ramsey surveyed the road. The cruiser was perpendicular to it. There were two other cars that looked totaled. One was a sedan that was a few feet from the rear of the cruiser. The other was the van. It looked like that one hit them head on. Looking around sparked a searing pain in his neck, making him feel like his head would fall off.

“Percy,” he coughed. She didn’t respond. Attempting to stand, he leaned against the car for support. He was still shaking so hard that he could barely walk. Carefully, he stepped to the driver’s side and wrenched open the door, which was partially crushed. “Percy?” He was scared to touch her. Pressing two fingers against her throat, he nearly sobbed with relief to feel a pulse. Her breathing was shallow, but it was there. Despite the burning in his knees, he knelt beside her and placed a hand on her leg, hoping the gesture would provide some semblance of comfort when she woke up.

Around him, there were people talking, the sound rising into a garbled mess. He could pick out that woman’s voice as she checked that the other drivers were okay. Conversely, the street noise seemed to end completely. The whole world had stopped except for their little bubble.

A groan dripped from Percy’s mouth and her eyes fluttered open.

“Thank God,” Ramsey gasped. “Can you hear me?”

Those blue eyes very slowly turned toward him. They seemed dull at first, but gained vivacity after a moment. “Yes.”

“Are you okay? Anything feel broken?”

“No.”

“Missing any teeth?”

“All teeth accounted for.”

“How’s your head?”

“All heads accounted for.”

“How many fingers am I holding up?”

“Four.”

“Close enough.”

Percy’s mouth fell open upon seeing the extent of the wreckage. “Oh no! The car! I suppose we’ll have to get a new one. Hopefully they won’t get too mad down at the station.” She hardly acknowledged her bloody nose, casually holding a sleeve over it. Her somewhat misplaced concerns were mildly comforting, a reminder of the mundane. Life wasn’t over yet.

“Nah, it’ll be okay,” Ramsey said. “I was pretty scared, though. I thought you were dead.” He almost choked on those last words.

She set a hand on his shoulder. “It will take more than that to kill me.” She made a move to stand, but Ramsey gently pushed her back in her seat.

“Don’t move. You might hurt yourself,” he said.

“No, I should construct an apothecary…” Her eyes searched the ground for a good place to build.

“ _Please_ don’t exert yourself. There’s an ambulance on the way. They’ll take care of it.” His hand, still on her leg, was shaking. It felt like his muscles were seizing up and turning to stone.

Percy glared at him, a look that made him shiver. “It’s my duty,” she asserted.

“Your duty? Forget that! Have you taken a look at yourself lately?”

“I know that I can help and I know that it’s well within my limits to do so. Now either help me stand or watch me die trying.”

Ramsey knew an order when he heard one. This side of her scared him a bit, but he couldn’t help but respect her for it. He stood and looped an arm around her torso, pulling her out of the car.

“Thanks,” she weakly said with renewed amiability. She raised an arm and the asphalt rose to form the base to a small mushroom house. Percy sagged from the effort, but straightened herself as a calming aura filled the air. The people standing around subconsciously drifted toward it.

“ _Now_ will ya sit down?” Ramsey begged. Percy nodded, sitting cross-legged on the ground next to the apothecary.

About ten feet away, the driver of the van stumbled out of his car, despite that woman’s protests. He looked mostly unharmed. Ramsey marched over to him, ignoring Percy’s call of “Where are you going?” The driver looked up at him upon his approach.

“What the hell are you doing?” Ramsey demanded. “Were you trying to kill us?” His voice was quivering more than he liked. He could only hope that it sounded like anger rather than fear.

The young man tried to set a glare on his face, but he looked too nervous. The effect fell flat.

“Neither of you should be walking right now!” the woman interjected.

The man blatantly ignored her. “Look,” he stammered, “I was just doing what they told me to—”

“Wha—what are you talking about? You crazy?” Ramsey was fuming.

“They have eyes everywhere! They threatened to kill my girlfriend!” the man yelled.

“Who did?”

“I can’t tell you! I got in too deep, and now they have me risking my life to take out…” The man looked to be on the verge of a mental breakdown. By then, police had arrived on the scene as well as an ambulance, sirens blaring. The man sat back in his car, burying his face in his hands.

Ramsey slowly exhaled, biting his cheek. That was all he needed to know. Aside from who “they” were, of course. He rejoined Percy at her side, his pain already becoming dull. His neck almost felt normal again. She rocked back and forth, hands braced on her thighs.

“I couldn’t help but overhear,” Percy began, “but it sounds like we’ve become a target of sorts. Malefaction has followed us, even here.”

“I think this whole thing might be more dangerous than we originally thought.” Couldn’t lie, he was feeling a little yellow.

“We’ll just have to be more careful,” Percy said with a determined smile. She really didn’t know when to back down, did she?

Paramedics rushed over to check on everyone. No one suffered any major injuries, especially with the help of the apothecary, but they wanted to take Percy to the hospital just to be safe. It appeared that she took the brunt of the blow. After that, the police took statements and filled out forms and checked vehicle registrations and redirected traffic—it was all one big mess to clean up. The man in the van was arrested after several witnesses claimed that he purposefully caused the wreck. By nightfall, tow trucks had hauled away the totaled cars and the fragments of glass and metal were swept up. It was as if it never happened. And everyone driving past would probably never know what happened there.

Ramsey was left by the side of the road holding a stack of papers, some odds and ends of equipment from the cruiser, and the bag with the fingerprints. In his breast pocket was Percy’s badge to be used in case anyone raised eyebrows at the precinct.

“Do you need a ride?” a policeman asked from behind.

“Actually,” Ramsey said, turning around, “It just so happens I need to drop all this off at the precinct and then check on Percy at the hospital.”

The man walked to his car. “Sure thing. I’d do anything to help Detective King. By the way, is she your wife or something? I had no idea she was married.”

Ramsey was caught off guard. He had no idea why someone in their right mind would pair him with someone as beautiful as Percy, but apparently this guy thought it was a valid query. “Nah, we’re… coworkers of sorts. I’m just a specialist aiding in her investigation.” He laid his head back in his seat, grateful for the silence. It was getting dark and it would have sucked to walk to the station.

***

In the hospital’s waiting room, Percy sat on a chair with the ugliest print she could imagine. Purple circles and blue zig-zags were arranged in diagonal rows with a pale green background. It was quite unnerving. She closed her eyes and rested her head in her hands, taking deep controlled breaths and tapping her cheek. Earlier, she had been full of energy, but the events of the day were taking their toll. She felt fine before, happy even because no one sustained major injuries. Then she heard the explanation of the event. She had looked away from the road the moment things went south… Now, guilt sank like a stone in her stomach and she couldn’t explain it. Why was she guilty when she wasn’t at fault?

A nurse tapped her on the shoulder. “The X-rays are clean. All your vitals are fine and there’s no breaks or fractures. Just make sure to ice those bruises. The ones on your knees are pretty nasty.”

“Thank you,” Percy sighed without looking up.

“Do you have anyone to take you home?” Just as the nurse had spoken, Ramsey took a cautious step into the waiting room, looking uncomfortable.

Percy stood up, still a little wobbly, and ran to Ramsey. He grinned and raised his arm in a subtle wave. “Glad I found you so quick,” he said. “I hate hospitals. Last time I was here, oh boy, it was a nightmare. Anyway, ya doing good? Need any help?”

Percy meant to smile, but it came across as more of a polite grimace. “...Just exhausted.”

“No kidding,” he said, putting an arm around her back to steady her. “Let’s get you home.”

She tensed at his touch, unsure if she wanted to be touched at all in the moment, but it felt so comforting. It was warm. Out in the parking lot, she wondered if she was melting.

“That one cop was super nice and offered to give us a ride. He took me down to the station, where I dropped off the fingerprints by the way, and he can drop you off at your place. Oh, and here’s your badge back.” Ramsey handed it to her. It was icy in her hands, so she quickly shoved it in her pocket.

In the cop’s car, she nodded along with the man’s well-wishes and directed him which ways to turn. It took a tremendous amount of energy for Percy to force herself to talk. She wanted silence more than anything at the moment. Finally, they stopped at her apartment complex.

“Thank you for going out of your way to aid us,” Percy said. “Have a good night. Come, Ramsey.”

Ramsey, looking confused, followed her out of the car after a moment. They waved as the cop drove off. “Hey, uh, you sure about this?” he asked, turning to her.

Percy felt something cold rise in her stomach and her heart leaped, but she nodded and climbed softly up the metal stairs. “Where were you going to go?”

Ramsey hastily tagged along, his steps ringing out. “Ya know, I wasn’t really sure. Maybe back to the prison. They wouldn’t have been too happy to see me without my chaperone, though.” He stood close to her when she stopped at the door. Perhaps it could have been a normal distance, but it felt awfully close to her. She wasn’t sure how to feel about the encroachment of her personal space. Comforted? Off-put? Probably comforted.

Her fingers fumbled with her keys, unable to get a proper grip. Frustration flared up, which made her more frustrated because unlocking a door was such an unreasonable thing to get frustrated at. Eventually, she opened the door. The smell of home was pleasant. But she felt heavy on the inside, like she was soaked through with water. Standing in the entryway, she listened to the pure silence. For the first time in the last few hours, she didn’t have dozens of people expecting her to be the perfect deliverer of justice. She could just… exist. Something in her chest broke and she began to sob. She pressed her sleeves to her face even though they were still covered in dried blood.

“D-does something still hurt?” Ramsey stammered.

She shook her head. Percy felt horrible. She hated crying. Arms wrapped around her and she leaned into Ramsey’s chest. Tentatively, she brought up her arms around him. They stayed motionless except for her trembling. Ramsey rubbed circles on her back and she decided to mirror the motion.

“Do you feel bad about what happened?” he asked after a stretch of silence.

“Yes,” she choked, “but I don’t understand why.”

“Hey, it was pretty stressful. Nothin’ wrong with a good cry.”

Finally, after riddling it out in her head all evening, she found the core of the problem, why she felt so abhorrent inside. “I could have killed us!” she wailed.

Ramsey held her a little tighter and shifted his weight side to side. The rocking motion was soothing to Percy and she felt less bitterness rise in her throat. “That wasn’t your fault,” he murmured.

“I should have been more vigilant. I endangered you and other innocent bystanders,” she said, words shattering like glass.

“Maybe you feel guilty, but just know that I don’t blame you at all. Hopefully, you can forgive yourself too.” He held her out by the shoulders and met her eyes. “Think you can do that?”

Percy felt a weight lift off her chest, one that had been pressing her down all day. She hadn’t even noticed it was there until it was gone. Her eyes drifted to the floor and she viciously scrubbed at her sodden cheeks. “Eventually.” She looked down at herself and switched to an easy-to-manage blank expression. “I should probably wash all this blood off now.”

***

Ramsey sighed, unable to fall asleep. Heck, he wasn’t even tired. At least Percy’s t-shirt and sweatpants were soft, if a bit small. Lying stomach down on the couch, he traced shapes into the carpet with his finger, turning a few strands to gold here and there. No way he was going to sleep after everything that happened, but he had a feeling that he would sorely regret it in the morning. He bit his cheek. It made his heart twinge just thinking about how distraught Percy was. She didn’t deserve it. Even then, he could hear soft whimpering and stifled sobs coming from her bedroom. The sounds pounded in his ears and his brain screamed at him to do something. But maybe she just needed space. She seemed ashamed and, again, detached. Unreachable. Like she was in a miserable little world of her own that she felt obligated to hide from everyone. Percy never struck him as the emotional type, so maybe going through all that stress was confusing for her.

But what did he care? He was just some criminal using her to work toward freedom. Percy was just an object to manipulate, a means to an end. But… he really did care. Disgusted with himself, Ramsey banished any thought of exploiting her. He really did care about her, but it was so hard when they came from opposite sides of the law. He bit his cheek harder until it hurt. _I’ll just let it go for now,_ he thought. _We’ll both feel better in the morning._ And yet, panic froze in his gut and his heart began to pound faster.

***

Her fingers slowly drummed on her mattress and she steadied her breathing. A bag of frozen vegetables sat on her knees. Eight taps, inhale, eight taps, exhale. Finally, Percy had stopped crying, leaving room to think. She couldn’t believe what happened. Not just the accident, but also that she had openly cried in front of another person. That was far, far out of the usual for her. Heat clouded in her face. She struggled so hard every day to hide her sorrows behind a mask. But it cracked. She wasn’t sure of how she felt about it, but her mind tortured her wondering what _he_ thought about it. Did Ramsey think less of her? Did he resent her? The emotions were a wild ride through a funhouse of mirrors, all distorted and perplexing and going by too fast to process. Her heart flip-flopped between disgust and horrifying panic. All directed at herself. If only she had been more careful or more aware of her surroundings or hadn’t looked away.

What terrified her the most, however, was what she was becoming. Was she fitting the labels that had been slapped on her throughout her childhood? She could hear them. Teachers whispering behind their hands, her parents talking behind closed doors, other children gossiping around the corner. _Poor, poor, Percival. Poor, autistic Percival._

New tears stung her eyes, but she blinked them back and repeated the self affirmations that got her through those dark years. _I’m not stupid like they say. I’m not clueless or oblivious or naive._ But she wondered… Did her failure today prove all of that wrong? She tried to let go, to wipe her mind blank. She would feel better in the morning.

***

The smell of toast and eggs woke Ramsey up. Where the heck… Oh yeah, it was Percy’s apartment. How strange. It was like the most bizarre sleepover of his life. He felt as if he was melted into the couch cushions and his mouth tasted like a pool of bacteria. What an awful way to awaken. The general feeling of terribleness wasn’t worth the two and a half hours of sleep he got that night.

Footsteps neared and he heard Percy kneel on the ground next to the couch. “Ramsey, are you awake?” she whispered.

“Wish I wasn’t,” he groaned.

“Chin up, it’s a new day!” Her freakishly cold hands grabbed his arm and pulled him up.

“Cripes, woman!” he shrieked, sitting up. Percy strode back to her small kitchen, her blue tank top hanging loosely off her figure. Ramsey was originally going to test the waters, see how she felt after the previous night, but she seemed chipper enough. As if nothing happened at all. Hm. He followed her, his one good eye burning from the lack of substantial sleep.

“I woke up at 5:00 a.m. to work out this morning, and I was worried I would wake you, but you evidently can sleep through anything,” she said, filling two glasses with water, one of which she handed to him. “I normally only have a slice of toast and 16 ounces of water, but I don’t know what you usually eat, so I also made you some scrambled eggs.” She pushed him to sit down on a stool, sliding a plate of eggs and toast down the countertop like a short-order cook. Standing across the bar, she took a bite of toast and cut a piece of butter from a stick. It splashed in the glass and she swirled it around in a disgusting cocktail.

Ramsey took a slow bite of toast, squinting. Surely, his eye wouldn’t be failing him now. “So you take butter in your water, shaken, not stirred?”

“It’s a treat.” She sipped. “A bit of a pick-me-up.” Percy smiled, then she looked out the window and her face became impossible to read. “I was surprised you didn’t even wake up while I was making breakfast. I dropped a pan. Almost on your head.” She tapped her chin. “You slept through it like a baby. Quite literally, come to think of it, because you sleep on your stomach with one arm tucked under you like the babies in diaper commercials.”

How? How could she be so energetic this early? “Interesting association… but I’ll bet you sleep like a dead person. On your back with your arms folded over your chest.”

Percy cocked her head, her lips parting slightly.

“I’ll bet you take cold showers, too. And you always drink room temperature water like some freak,” he continued.

“Amazing. Certainly your powers of observation extend past artwork,” she said reverently. “Anyway, get dressed. We have evil to vanquish!” She vanished down the hall.

Ramsey couldn’t help but wonder if she really was okay. Her pleasantness seemed feverishly exaggerated, like she was a caricature of her normal self. Finishing his breakfast, he washed his plate and grabbed his neatly folded clothes that were sitting on the arm of the couch. Percy had been kind enough to put them through the wash with her uniform, which she somehow magically washed the blood out of. He was just grateful his shirt no longer smelled like airbag dust.

Percy came out of her room donning her uniform, the sword swinging at her belt. “Are you ready to go?”

“Yup,” Ramsey said just as he pulled on one of his shoes.

“Today we will exploit the wonders of public transportation, which is what I normally use when I don't have a cruiser,” Percy announced. “Come, before we miss the bus.” They walked down the steps of the apartment complex, the sun greeting them with its morning warmth. All was quiet except for the sword clinking at her side. Apparently, no one in that part of town had anything to do that early. Percy seemed to prefer the silence. Ramsey could practically see the wheels turning in her head, probably laying out a plan for the day.

He hated to interrupt her, but… “Hey Percy?”

“Yes?”

“Are you really doing alright?”

Her steps faltered and she looked at him, a hint of confusion in her eyes. “What makes you ask? I have clearly expressed positive emotions.”

“Yeah, but I’ve been wondering how genuine they are. You’re not usually like this. Feels like you’re putting up a front.” He rubbed the back of his neck, a little nervous about how she would react to the confrontation.

Percy looked down, shrinking away from him. All of her chipperness washed away. “… I was hoping you wouldn’t notice. I’m surprised at how easily you can see right through me.” Her fingers tapped away on the hilt of her sword.

“Hey, there’s no need to pretend everything’s okay when it’s not,” he said, bumping her shoulder with the back of his hand. She flinched minutely.

Percy sighed, shaking her hands out. “I just… I feel… Ugh, I can’t explain it!” She put her hands over her face, causing the words to come out muffled. “I don’t know how I feel and I don’t know how to remedy it and I don’t understand what emotions people expect me to portray because I’ve never been in such a vexing situation before.”

Woah. Ramsey must have struck a tender nerve. He felt as though he broke through a layer of ice and… it all made sense. Why she would become detached, why she was so unreachable. She had never been so open with him before. “Hey, it’s alright, doll. You don’t have to tailor your emotions to the people around you. Your friends down at the station? They’re good people. I promise that they’ll support you, even when you have to process things on your own time.”

Percy’s hands came away from her face. “How—how can you tell?”

Ramsey shrugged and grinned. “Eh, that’s just what good friends do.”

Percy smiled, a mellow smile. The first real one that day. “Does that mean you’ll support me too?”

He shoved his hands in his pockets, surprised that she would count him, of all people, as a good friend. But, he decided to roll with it. Hearing that out loud was a comfort. “Of course.”

***

By the time the bus came, Percy had calmed down. She felt… so free. Just knowing that someone else’s expectations weren’t crushing her gave her some form of inner peace. She looked at Ramsey, who was sitting beside her, gazing out the window. She felt a new fondness for him. No one had ever really understood her the way he did. But then again, she hardly understood herself, let alone enough to vocally explain it to other people. It was somewhat of a milestone. It was a good thing she had butter water that morning.

She gazed around the bus with a triumphant grin. All those people had no idea that she had just had the epiphany of her life. However, she felt connected with them somehow. They were all human beings with emotions and she was one too. She spotted an old man with an eyepatch. With giddy excitement, she nudged Ramsey. “Look at that guy,” she whispered. “You two are birds of a feather.”

“Well aren’t you funny?” he said with fake annoyance. “Makin’ jokes at the expense of the half blind guys.” He sighed over-dramatically and shrugged with defeat. “I hate birds anyway.”

The police station was nearby. “I hate that phrase,” Percy said. “It means that two people are similar, but what does it even _mean_?”

The bus stopped and Ramsey stood up, chuckling. “Who knows?”

Entering the station, Percy was met with warm smiles. She felt as if she were glowing. “I hope you’re doing well.” “I’m so glad to see you’re okay!” “Don’t worry, we’ve got another cruiser you can use.” Meryl even gave her a hug. Ramsey must have been right.

“We’ve got those fingerprints for ya,” one of the detectives said. “Two of them belong to one Mateo Riviera. We couldn’t find a match in our database for the other one.” He gave her a sheet of paper with the boy’s information. “He’s been on the run for a while. We didn’t find a matching employee name at the museum, though. Sorry about that.”

Percy ran her finger down the paper. 23 years old, accused of forgery six months earlier, resisted arrest and escaped. Tragic that the boy threw his life away at such a young age. The picture at the top looked vaguely familiar. Ramsey looked over her shoulder, squinting in suspicion. She heard him gulp.

It was unfortunate that her theory didn’t check out. No matter. A lead was a lead. “Thank you,” Percy said. “We’ll perform further investigation at the museum and see if that brings up anything. We may have a manhunt on our hands.” Turning on her heel, she walked out the door with fresh determination.

***

Ramsey felt cold snake up and down his back. That wasn’t what he expected, but it sure explained a lot. Percy sat in the driver’s seat, saying, “It’s fortunate they had another car available to aid in our investigation.”

“Well,” Ramsey began, twiddling his thumbs, “there’s something I kiiinda have to tell you first.”

“Is it pertinent to our work?” She raised an eyebrow.

“Yes. Very much, actually. So, you remember that kid we saw at the store yesterday?”

“Of course! That’s where I recognized the picture from!” she said, eyes wide. She turned to him. “Wait, he _was_ doing something illegal?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t know about it… at the time.” Sheesh, he kinda felt like he had lied to her the other day. Was it getting warmer? “I didn’t exactly bump into him during my more illegal escapades, though. I actually worked with him directly.”

Percy fixed him with an appraising stare.

He waved his hands. “I-I’m not hiding anything from you! I just thought this information would be more relevant now. Anyway, when I was talkin’ to him, I let slip that I was working with you at the museum and…” Just say it. Like ripping off a bandaid. “I think that he tipped off whoever he’s working for and that’s why that guy tried to kill us yesterday. It’s my fault.” _Oh jeez, oh jeez, oh jeez…_

Percy looked to be deep in thought, one hand on her chin, brows furrowed. Finally, she spoke. “I don’t blame you at all. It’s not your fault.”

Ramsey sighed like a steadily deflating balloon. Thank goodness.

“What else can you tell me about the suspect?”

Ramsey finally sat in the passenger's seat. “Well, for one thing, the kid’s freaky. He’s super jittery all the time, but when he gets mad, oh boy, he blows up. Talented artist, though. His epithet? No idea what it is, but he has this way of working inhumanly fast on projects. On the plus side, he always had a playlist in his back pocket for any occasion. It was really nice when we were cooped up working on forgeries.”

“Fascinating,” Percy mused.

“That explains how he completed all of those forgeries! As soon as he finds out what he has to create, he finishes it really quickly! It’s gotta be something to do with his epithet. I might know where his hideaway is, too. If it hasn’t moved, that is.”

“Brilliant! Now that we know who we’re looking for, we should see if we can find any more evidence. The fingerprints may be enough, but we may as well be safe. It would at least ensure a search warrant and a definitive trial.” Percy was looking fired up.

Ramsey felt a little bad. After all, he told the kid that he wouldn’t rat him out. But… He looked at Percy. Her desire to do what was right shone in her eyes. She was more important to him than any contact. “Let’s get this party started, eh?”

***

Percy dashed up the steps of the museum, sure that there was something to find, something that they had missed before. Upon hearing that Mateo wasn’t an employee, she was quite disappointed, but wasn’t sure if that ruled out the possibility completely. As Ramsey told her more and more about the boy, she began to understand that it was well within his capabilities to forge not only art, but also official documents. There was no evidence that it had happened, but the boy could have been employed using false documents and a fake name. How else would he know all 36 of the paintings to create? While there was still room for that possibility, she just had to find out the truth.

Reaching the storage room, Percy skidded to a halt and found the manager, Ramsey panting behind her. The old woman looked surprised to see them. “Have you found—”

“No time to explain,” Percy said, cutting the woman off. “Do you recognize this person?” She thrust Mateo Riviera’s paper into her hands.

The manager adjusted her glasses, holding the paper inches away from her nose. “Yes, of course,” she said, looking up. “This is one of my employees.”

Percy was right! “Excellent! We need to see his employment records.”

Her face scrunched in protest. “That’s confidential. I can’t just—”

“It’s official police business,” Percy said, flashing her badge in case the woman forgot who she was.

“Yeah,” Ramsey panted behind her. The backup was appreciated, if unnecessary.

The woman, looking concerned, said, “Alright, follow me.”

Ramsey had finally caught his breath after chasing Percy down in her mad dash. “You’re a genius,” he whispered to her with a grin.

The manager guided them to an office with a computer. She sat down at the desk, pulled up the information, and let Percy sit in the chair. The display showed scant information, but it was enough. Mateo had been employed for eight months under the name of Davis Burtram. It was marked that he took his paychecks in person, not through mail or direct deposit. He was a full-time worker and had been working every day around when the crime was estimated to take place. Percy jotted down the information on the back of the boy’s file. This was it. She was climbing ever closer to the truth.

“Now, can we see the security camera footage?” Percy asked. The woman pulled it up as well. “You can attend to your duties, now. This will take a while.” The woman shrugged and left.

Ramsey knelt next to her chair, folding his arms on the top of the desk. “This is gonna be hours of fun, isn’t it?”

“Yes, if this is your idea of fun,” she said, pulling up the footage from the day that the art was discovered to be fake. “Let’s work our way back from here.”

Hours indeed. After about two hours, Ramsey was slumped in the chair, legs stretched out, sound asleep. Percy couldn’t stand staying still for so long, so she offered to switch and when he fell asleep, she let him. He seemed like the type to be stressed out quite often, but now, he was serene, his breathing slow and steady.

Percy stood in front of the computer, rocking back and forth as the footage sped by. Most of it had nothing of interest since the museum had been closed for the past week, starting from the theft of the Arsene Amulet. Whenever she caught movement, she would pause and play it back again at normal speed. A janitor cleaning the floors. The manager preparing for the new exhibit. It was mildly amusing to watch them leave the frame of one camera and enter into another one. She caught a large amount of movement. Crates. Bingo.

About two days before the forgeries were discovered, employees were loading crates into the storage room. There appeared to be about ten workers, but one stood out from the rest. Mateo Riviera. She wasn’t surprised that his activity didn’t raise any suspicions. The boy was quick and clever, disguising the theft as working. As some employees would bring in crates on hand trucks, he would switch them around and carry them out, dipping in and out of camera blind spots. He would chat with his coworkers, pointing as if explaining that the crates he was taking were meant to be elsewhere in the museum. She followed him until he vanished through a back door by the truck’s loading station and out of sight. He must have had another vehicle that was out of reach of the cameras. He repeated the pattern until each crate was switched out. She wrote down the times and dates onto the piece of paper, folding it up and putting it in her pocket. Lastly, she turned the display to the current camera footage.

Sighing, Percy sat on the ground. She needed just a few minutes. Looking at all that footage strained her eyes and she could feel a dull headache coming on. She rested her cheek on Ramsey’s thigh and closed her eyes. Just a few minutes.

The movement must have woken Ramsey up because he jerked slightly. “Hm? You tired, doll?” he slurred, brushing her bangs out of her face.

“Mm hm. I got through all that footage, no thanks to you,” she teased.

“Oh yeah, sorry ‘bout that. You coulda just slapped me.”

“I decided not to.” She idly wondered how he would react if she told him about her neurodivergence. Just a random thought that surfaced from the ocean in her head. She was never shy about it, proud even, but some people treated her as a child when they found out. Or an alien creature sometimes. What would Ramsey do? A part of her wanted to tell him just to see. Actually, she genuinely wanted him to know, but another part wanted to keep hiding it. After all, he let her see a glimpse of his childhood, as unpleasant as it was. Sharing experiences were what friends did. But the whole thing would probably never occur naturally in conversation, so maybe she shouldn’t worry for now. After counting to 60 in her head, Percy stood up. “Come on. If we hurry, I bet we’ll have a search warrant within the hour.”

“Ugh.” He stood reluctantly, shaking sleep from his head. “Wait, what’s that?”

Percy turned to the computer and saw a figure darting through the hallways, keeping to the blind spots. It was Mateo Riviera. And with a weapon in his hand, although it was too blurred to identify what it was.

“Oh dear,” Percy muttered. Her body immediately leaped into action mode, her adrenaline pumping as she calculated the best course of action in her head.

“We gotta get out of here!” Ramsey said. “He’ll kill us!”

Percy took note of which way the boy was coming from and skidded out the door of the office. “This way!” Grabbing Ramsey’s hand, she led him through hallways and displays toward the nearest exit that was far away from Mateo. Rounding a corner, Percy tripped, but Ramsey pulled her up before she hit the ground. Almost there. Just one more turn—

BANG

The sound startled her, but it appeared the gun only fired a blank.

“Stop!” a voice cried out.

They obeyed, nearly falling over from their sudden stop in speed. Percy put her hands on her head and slowly turned around, Ramsey following suit. His eyes were wide.

Mateo Riviera stood, panting, fuming, loading his pistol. He let out a sound between a gasp and a laugh as if surprised he succeeded. “I’m glad I found out—you were on to me—before you got away!” he said between pants. “I’m lucky my friend found out—before it was too late!” The janitor, a large man with a grizzled beard, stepped from the hallway behind them.

“It was your prints we found, then. You’re the accomplice!” Percy said.

“You found prints? Guess my prints weren’t in the system. Glad I don’t have a criminal record,” the janitor grumbled.

“How’d you know where we were?” Ramsey demanded.

Mateo jerked the pistol in his direction, hand shaking. Ramsey’s chest instinctively turned to gold right over his heart. “I’ve got something of a partnership with Bliss Ocean.”

“You would stoop to that level?” Percy harshly said.

“Hey, lady. I’m doing what I think is right, same as you. You’re just going about it the wrong way.” Mateo loosely twirled the gun. “Anyway, If I’m bringing in cash, then they’re giving me all the tools to do whatever I want! I have eyes all over the city, pawns at my disposal, limitless protection, it’s a great expansion for my business! You know, I could still use someone like you, Murdoch.”

Ramsey shot a sidelong glance at her, then took a step forward. “You’ve got a deal.” Percy’s stomach dropped. Mateo grinned and shifted the pistol’s barrel to her. Ramsey strode to the boy’s side and said, “Let’s shake on it.” He extended a hand.

Mateo’s eyes lit up with fury and he leapt away just in time to avoid being turned into gold. The gun, now gold, clattered to the floor a few feet away. “I’m not falling for that trick!” the boy hissed, kicking Ramsey in the stomach. “You have no idea how important this is and I’m not letting some slimy bastard ruin it all!”

“Augh!” Ramsey collapsed to the floor, one arm around his stomach and his other hand over his mouth.

“No!” Percy cried. A mingle of relief and terror filled her chest. Ramsey didn’t betray her after all, but the situation was steadily becoming worse.

“Heh. I bet we’ll get a nice bonus for turning you in to the bosses.” The boy was shaking, his worry starting to show through his vicious facade. Dark bags hung under his eyes and his smile faltered. He nodded to the janitor, who leapt toward her.

In a split second, Percy shot a look at Ramsey, hoping he knew what it meant. He started to turn to gold and she raised her hand to construct a wizard tower, but… Time stopped. She couldn’t move. No, wait, she _could_ move. Frustratingly slow. It was like trying to run underwater, but worse. She could only move perhaps a centimeter every few seconds.

Mateo and the janitor walked toward them at a normal speed. The janitor pulled Percy’s arms behind her back and used her own eraser cuffs on her wrists. Everywhere he touched her, it felt like a punch. He tossed the other pair to Mateo, who did the same to Ramsey. Being the larger man, the janitor grabbed the two by the backs of their shirts and started to haul them toward the exit. Thrashing as violently as she could resulted only in vague swaying. Any movement Percy made had little effect.

“Since you’re dying of curiosity,” Mateo said, “I’ll tell you my epithet. Adagio. As you can see, I can slow myself, others, even time, any way I please.” The boy’s voice was strained as if he were becoming unhinged. He unbuckled the sword from Percy’s belt and took the phone from her pocket.

It made sense. Ramsey said that Mateo could work at an inhuman speed, but in reality, he was just slowing time around him. That’s how he could finish the art so quickly. That’s how he could move so quickly. They were dragged out to a small moving van, probably the same van that carried the real artwork mere days ago. The janitor threw them in the back. Percy couldn’t even struggle.


	3. Chapter 3

The doors slammed with a metallic clash and all went dark. Ramsey sat up, hardly able to see. Cracks of light wriggled through the gaps of the door, leaving a reflected path down the center of the van, which jolted as the engine started. He almost felt like he was going to throw up after that blow to the stomach, intense nausea persisting. 

“It appears we can move normally again,” Percy said. “But… damn.” Her cuffs jingled.

“Yeah…” It was really warm in the van. Stifling, actually. Ramsey found himself shaking out of control. He took a deep breath. It was not the time to be freaking out. He clenched his teeth. Despite his efforts to stay calm, his breath sped up faster and faster until he was drowning and gasping for air. His heart was throbbing and thrashing in his chest and he felt like it was going to burst. It was excruciating. He shook even harder. This was it. He was really going to die this time. He wasn’t stupid. He’d seen those true crime shows. Kidnapping victims were typically murdered within, what, three hours? But not just killed, murdered. Brutally. He could feel his clock ticking away, loudly, rapidly, ringing in his ears.

“Ramsey, are you alright?” They lurched and slid across the floor as the van took a sharp turn.

He could hardly breathe, let alone choke out a reply. “I… I…” Concrete filled his lungs.

“You’re hyperventilating. Try to steady your breathing or you might pass out.” Ramsey felt the side of the van against his back and realized just how much he was shaking. Her voice continued, softer this time. “You must be having a panic attack of sorts. Don’t worry, I’ll ride it out with you.”

He heard her clearly, but it took him a moment to process what she actually said. A panic attack? That’s what he was feeling? Well, he hated it. It was even worse with his arms cuffed behind his back. Couldn’t move… Couldn’t breathe… Something was pressing into him from all sides like he was being suffocated in a bag. His gasps became higher in pitch until he felt like he was going to cry or scream or both. He just wished he would die already. Percy was saying something, but he didn’t know what. Why wasn’t she freaking out? They were in the back of a van! And he couldn’t breathe. There was no air at all.

It took so long, but eventually, gradually, he could hear Percy again. “It seems your breathing is coming down. Breathe in deep for five seconds, then hold your breath for five seconds, then exhale slowly. That applies pressure on your heart, thus lowering your heart rate and calming you down.” Percy was speaking gently and really close to his ear. He hardly noticed she was there before.

Ramsey gave it a try and started to gain control of his breathing. With each exhale, he could feel his pulse lowering. Beside him, Percy breathed at the same time he did. He slouched against the wall of the truck, feeling like himself again.

“Are you feeling better?” Percy asked.

“Yeah. S-sorry. God, I just ca-can’t get a grip, huh?” His words came out shivering and weak, tripping over irregular gasps.

“Do you have attacks like these often?”

“Uh huh. I had one yesterday ju-just after the wreck and… And when I’m in-in a bad situation… And sometimes when I’m just s-sitting there doing nothing.” No one else knew about his attacks. He had assumed that there was just something wrong with him and that he couldn’t do anything but wait until the torture was over. There was no need for anyone to know if he could just deal with it on his own. Talking about the aspect of his life he was most ashamed of was incredibly uncomfortable.

“Do you have a panic or anxiety disorder?” She just kept asking and asking.  _ Doesn’t she know when to shut up? _ He immediately regretted thinking that.

“I… I don’t know, okay?” he snapped. “I guess I—I just get anxious sometimes, but that’s all. It’s nothing.” It stung to say that. All of those sleepless nights and long stretches of paranoia and being too anxious to even get out of bed weren’t “nothing” to him. Fear was always looming over his shoulder, taking the wheel whenever it wanted. He just hated it. Bitterly. So, so much. Why wouldn’t it just leave?

“From what you describe, it doesn’t sound like nothing.”

Ramsey was stiff. “Look, can we just stop—”

“No.” Percy’s voice was firm. “Blatantly ignoring your enemies will only strengthen them. You need to listen to yourself and to those that care about you. Do you want to feel this way your whole life?”

“I can’t control it! I’ve wasted my whole life trying to suck it up and I couldn’t! Can’t you see it’s a lost cause?” His shouting had a faint, tinny echo, hanging in the air like a dense fog. His mouth felt disgusting for saying that. “Sorry, I’m not mad at you. I shouldn’t raise my voice.”

Her clothes rustled and she moved closer, her leg against his. “I’m not asking you to control it and you’re not a lost cause.” Percy’s words remained even and soft, but still carried force. “I’m not going to stand by and let you suffer. I promise you, we’ll get out of here and I’ll do what it takes to help you.”

What’d she say earlier? Anxiety panic something or other? There was a name to what he had been feeling his whole life? It was an actual condition that could be helped? He had no idea. He breathed out a stream of air. “Does that mean I have to go through therapy like some nutcase?”

“It’s recommended and it doesn’t make you a nutcase. Counseling and medication can help stabilize your feelings. It has helped me in the past.”

Miss Perfect had gone through therapy? When he imagined therapy, he always thought of straight jackets, padded rooms, and some doctor standing on the other side of one-way mirrors with a clipboard. This was certainly a change in perspective. “Huh?”

Percy softly chuckled and shifted her position. “I actually have autism. I’ve been to therapy to work through some emotional things and to prepare for independent living. I’ve been wanting to tell you, but I never knew the right time…” She was scared to tell him something? She had always come across as an open book to him. Even when she hid her negative emotions, he didn’t have to dig too deep to talk it out. There was pain behind her words, a hidden trepidation crystallizing the air around them. He had heard of autism, but only knew very little about it.

“I can’t say I know what that really means. Why don’t you tell me about it?” Ramsey was feeling calmer just talking to her. Never before had he empathized with someone so deeply. This was the heart-to-heart of his life.

“It’s a neurological condition.” Her words were lighter. Relieved. “One could say my brain functions differently to yours. I have difficulty reading and processing emotions, for one thing. To me, logic and structure are foundational. Sensory input tends to be quite intense for me, so I don’t like being touched. But I’m fine… when you touch me. There’s more, but that’s a brief summary.” He could practically hear the grin on her face.

“Isn’t that somethin’?” His heart pounded, but it was only partially out of anxiety this time. He wished he could see Percy and hug her and tell her that everything was going to be okay. He wanted to say something more, to express what he was feeling, but he couldn’t bring himself to say the words. Couldn’t even think of what to say or how to say it. The truck bounced along the road and Ramsey felt a little sick to his stomach. There would be more time to talk later, anyway. Maybe by then he would think of something.

Percy leaned into him, catching him by surprise. “I cannot hug you right now, so here’s my substitution.”

Ramsey laughed. “And here’s my substitution.” He leaned down and kissed her on the cheek, pulling away slowly. All was quiet except for the sounds of traffic.

“We’re going to get out of here.” She kissed his cheek back.

***

Mateo’s voice could be barely heard. “We’ll just leave them here for a while. I have to meet up with a few clients, then we can turn them in.”

When the doors opened, the light burned Percy’s eyes. After being plunged in darkness for 40 minutes, it was quite harsh. Once again, she could only move infinitesimally as the janitor pulled them out of the van. The man’s grip was almost unbearable. She noticed that his nametag read “Greeves.” Her legs hit the concrete floor of a garage painfully. Surrounding her were shelves of tools and art supplies. Unfortunately, the garage door had already been closed, so she couldn’t see any landmarks to identify where they were. There was no street noise, so they must have been taken to a quieter residential area on the outskirts of the city.

Mateo had vanished. Greeves dragged them into the conjoining house and placed them on the carpet of a cramped living room. There was no furniture, unless one counted the stacks of crates on the other side of the room. She looked at Ramsey, who seemed to share the same thought.  _ The paintings. _

Greeves stepped into the adjacent kitchen to make coffee. Of course, he had a gun trained on them the whole time. The coffee grinder was quite loud.

Ramsey leaned over to her and whispered, “We’re trapped in some dude’s house with three dozen originals by some of the most famous classical artists out there. This both excites and terrifies me.”

“When we escape, I’ll let you drool over those paintings all you want,” Percy whispered back. Her eyes darted back and forth across the room, desperately calculating the best escape path. The front door and garage door were fairly nearby. There were two windows in the room they were in and one in the kitchen, all curtained. Past the kitchen were a few doors that must have led to the rest of the house.

Ramsey frantically nudged her. She turned back to him, surprised. He very subtly nodded past her and she slowly looked in the direction, avoiding detection by their captor. Greeves was focused on his coffee for the time being. At first, Percy was confused, but then she spotted it. A box cutter that had fallen between two crates. She stared at the janitor until he turned to grab a mug from a cupboard, then stepped over the chain on her cuffs so her arms were no longer behind her back. She rolled across the room, grabbed the box cutter, and tip-toed into the kitchen. Flipping the switch to expose the blade, she held it to the man’s back. She glanced at Ramsey, who also stepped over his chain and stood.

“Drop the gun,” Percy commanded.

Greeves whipped around. “Or what? You’ll give me a paper cut?” He ducked out of her reach and punched the box cutter out of her hand. It bounced across the floor and down the hallway. Percy’s knuckles stung.

Just before he could fire a shot, Percy grabbed his arms and pushed them upward. A bullet gouged a hole in the ceiling, sprinkling them with bits of dust and plaster. He pushed down, forcing her to wrestle. “Ramsey, help!” she called.

“Oh jeez,” he griped, running to her side. “What do I do?”

“Figure it out!” she hissed, bending under the strain.

Ramsey stepped behind Greeves, throwing his cuffs around the man’s head. Greeves grunted as the chain pressed into his neck. However, the janitor was left undeterred. “Is that good?” Ramsey asked.

The gun was almost pointed at her face. “You’ll have to pull harder!”

“Won’t that hurt ‘im?”

“That’s the point!” Oh, the sweet summer child. At such a bad time. Percy’s arms were quaking under the duress.

“Okay!” Ramsey said, sounding unsure. He yanked back, the chain tightening around Greeves’ throat. The janitor’s face began to turn red as he fought for air. Percy no longer had to fight to keep the gun from pointing at her. Unfortunately, that was because the gun was pointing at Ramsey. The janitor aimed over his shoulder and pulled the trigger, Ramsey yelping as a bullet whizzed past his ear. The chain tightened even more and finally, the man’s face turned purple and he went limp, collapsing to the floor.

“Did I just do that?” Ramsey said, his voice a little high. “Now  _ that  _ was a pants-shitter!”

“Yes. Good work,” Percy assured. She had forgotten that Ramsey, in fact, did not know how to fight. She patted down the janitor in search of keys, but found nothing. Handing the gun to Ramsey, she nudged the man with her foot. “I’m going to search the house for the keys or anything useful. He’ll wake up in a few minutes.”

“Why don’t we run now?”

“If I find the keys, I want to cuff the suspects. If not we’ll run. Make sure he doesn’t move.”

Ramsey looked at the gun in his hand and gulped. “Have you forgotten? I am spaghetti,” he said, gesturing wildly at himself, “and he is rigatoni. The dude’s four times bigger than me!”

“Then sit on him,” Percy said, walking through the hallway. Behind her, Ramsey reluctantly obeyed. She opened one door to find a laundry room. Nothing. The next door was a tiny bathroom. She even looked inside the cabinet, but found nothing. The last door led to a bedroom. Inside was a bed, a desk, and several canvases propped against the walls. Some had sketches, some were half finished, and the largest stack were blank. One of the partially finished ones depicted a girl walking across a stormy ocean. Her white dress and silky blonde hair stood out from the dark blues and grays of the water. Her face was contorted in sorrow, her delicate hand reaching for someone that wasn’t there. In one of the unpainted corners, “Mateo Riviera Original” was scrawled in pencil. It was quite beautiful.

The desk held a few tubs of neatly organized art supplies of all different mediums. Brushes, oils, acrylics, watercolors, markers, charcoal, colored pencils. It was quite impressive, but proved to be useless. She peered inside the closet, hoping to find  _ something. _ Keys? Nope. A better weapon to keep their captors in check? Nope.

A scream and a gunshot made her jump, hitting her head on the shelf in the closet. She untangled herself from the hanging shirts and dashed around the corner, into the hall. Ramsey was on his stomach, groping for the gun that had skidded across the floor and to her feet. Greeves was on top of him, digging a knee into his back. One of his meaty hands gripped the back of Ramsey’s collar and the other held a kitchen knife to his throat. Percy’s blood began to boil as it raced through her veins.

“Why do you look so scared?” Greeves asked, looking down at his prey. “How ‘bout I carve you a new smile, add a scar to the collection?” The janitor jerked Ramsey’s head back as he cried out between clenched teeth.

Percy picked up the gun and aimed for the man’s head, her eyes alight. “Don’t touch him!”

“I would advise you to put that down,” Greeves growled. He pressed the knife just under Ramsey’s jaw right where his artery was. Ramsey wailed as Greeves pulled the knife, creating a delicate cut. Drops of blood ran down his neck.

Percy’s vision blackened around the edges and narrowed around the janitor. She had never wished suffering upon another being in her entire life. She was going to send that man to hell. Hand shaking with fury, she pressed the trigger, not enough to fire it, thinking. If she shot him, he would likely be dead before he had the chance to hurt Ramsey. But if she missed? If his reaction time was quick enough? If the weight of him falling pushed Ramsey into the knife? It wasn’t worth the risk.

She took a deep breath and forced herself to stay calm. “Alright.” She placed the gun, her only form of leverage, on the floor and slid it toward Greeves. “Now let him go.”

Greeves, dropping Ramsey’s shirt, picked it up and twirled it before aiming at Percy. “No. You sit on the ground over there and he’ll stay right here. Seems like you’ll be more cooperative with this arrangement.” He idly tapped the flat side of the blade on Ramsey’s back. “We’ll just wait here until Mateo comes back.”

Percy clenched her fists. There was no other option but to follow orders. Only the jingling of her handcuffs and the tapping knife made sound as she sat against the wall. Tense silence frosted the air. All three in the room balanced it as if they were holding a large pane of glass. Dropping it would be disastrous. Ramsey’s cheek was against the floor and his eyes were shut tight. The cut on his neck didn’t look too deep, although it was producing a worrying amount of blood. It pooled on the floor and seeped into his collar. He looked tense, but after a few minutes, he relaxed his muscles and quietly performed the breathing exercise she had shown him earlier. Percy wished she could calm down the way he did. Her blood was still viciously pumping through her system, her adrenaline spiking. She tapped her fingers on her knee and bobbed her head, expelling the ferocity from her system.

The tile floor felt cold against her legs and she bit back a bitter cry because she had failed. Ramsey was hurt and she couldn’t do anything to save him. If only she had done something different. If only they had run when they had the chance. They could have called for backup, but she wanted to get the situation under her control. Percy buried her face in her hands. All she could do was wait for a better opportunity. Perhaps not all was lost.

***

The tiles were so cold they stung Ramsey’s cheek. He couldn’t bear to look at Percy, so he kept his eyes shut and silently prayed that they wouldn’t die. Blood was uncomfortably slick on his jaw and he had to restrain himself from flinching every time the knife bounced on his back. It was his fault. He couldn’t keep the situation under control, even when Percy asked him to. It was his fault they were going to die. He never had so much hatred for himself in his life and it burned in his chest.  _ Stay calm. Stay calm _ . That was all he could do. Anything else would probably guarantee him an immediate death. Adrenaline electrified his body, but any panic attack that might have happened was only waiting in the wings. He focused on counting the taps of the blade.

A door slammed open after 30 minutes of being crushed under the giant. Ramsey had counted about 1,860 taps. “What’s going on?” Mateo’s voice echoed in the semi-empty house.

“They were getting rowdy, but as you can see, I have it under control,” the janitor rumbled.

“Great,” Mateo said sarcastically. Ramsey heard the jingle of keys flying through the air, landing in the janitor’s hand right behind his head. “Chain them to the fridge handles or something. We have to load these crates and then we can take ‘em to my superior.”

The janitor swiftly obeyed, taking no pains to be gentle. Ramsey could breathe easy again without 280 pounds of muscle crushing his ribs into the tiles. Their captors started lifting the crates, hauling them to the van in the garage.

“Are you alright?” Percy whispered. Her voice lacked the even, calculated tone it usually had.

“I dunno. This is lookin’ pretty bad.” Having Percy pressed against him was a meager comfort. “Look, I’m sorry. That was stupid what I did back there. I have a feeling it’s gonna cost us.”

The chain of Percy’s cuffs scraped on the fridge, ringing out painfully as she shifted. She flinched at the sound. “No, I’m sorry. I’m trained for situations like these, yet I failed you. You shouldn’t even be here. I led you to danger when I should have left you in your comfortable cell where you would be safe.” She lowered her head, hiding the glossiness of her eyes. She swallowed back her tears and set a firm look on her face.

Ramsey wasn’t sure what to say.  _ Yes, I wish you left me behind so you could die alone. No, I’m glad that I’m probably gonna die with you.  _ Nothing sounded good. He choked out a sob, surprising both Percy and himself. No way was he going to let himself cry. But tears pricked at his eye all the same, taking a tremendous amount of exertion to stave back. There had to be something they could do. They had outsmarted an impossibly strong opponent before, even with eraser cuffs. There had to be something, some weakness they could exploit.

After a few minutes, the janitor unlooped their cuffs from around the fridge handle and dragged them back to the truck. The man’s grip felt like fire. Ramsey was sure he was going to have a whole gallery of bruises up and down his arms. They were thrown into the back of the van, surrounded by stacks of crates, the slamming of the door restoring darkness. Percy sidled up to him and felt for his face. Her gloves brushed his cheek, then jaw, then found his cut. He was very hyper aware of her touch. She held her sleeve to his throat, stemming the flow of blood. Her other hand held the back of his neck to steady him and apply proper pressure. It stung a little.

Ramsey finally spoke. “Did it hurt when that guy touched you? ‘Cause it sure hurt me.” He could feel the muscles in his throat sliding against her arm as he talked.

“Yes, I certainly find it strange. There must be some reason we’re missing.”

“You think it has something to do with his epithet? Maybe it’s a ‘bestow monumental amounts of pain at will’ kind of thing.”

“Did you feel the same burning sensation when he had you pinned?”

Sheesh. “It’s hard to tell since he was bestowing monumental amounts of pain anyway, but I don’t think it was the same burning sensation.”

Percy shifted her position. “Thinking back to when I was wrestling the gun from him, I didn’t feel any pain, although that would have been an opportune time to use his epithet. Hm.”

Ramsey reviewed the events of the day, trying to remember them in as much detail as possible. At the museum, it was agony being hauled to the van and then in the house and then back again. What was the common denominator? “Ya know, come to think of it, I only felt the burning sensation when Mateo slowed time.”

Percy nearly jumped. “That’s it! It makes sense that we would feel pain when we are slowed.” She repositioned her sleeve.

“Am I just profoundly imbecilic? Because I don’t get it.”

“You’re not an imbecile,” Percy said, “but perhaps I’m more well-versed in science and physics.”

“Thank goodness! So I’m not an idiot, I’m just stupid.” He snickered as Percy swatted at his arm.

“I did not mean for that to be an insult,” she huffed. He could hear her slipping a glove off. “Have you ever wondered what it would be like for you to move freely about while time is stopped?”

“Yeah, I guess so.” Her bare fingers felt around for his neck, bumping his ear first. They were cold. She gently touched the cut, ensuring that it was no longer bleeding.

“It turns out that the experience would not be as pleasant as childish imaginings may suggest. If one were to move while time is stopped, they would technically be touching objects at the speed of light, no matter how gently they tread. Objects would be hit with more force than expected.”

“So, we’re experiencing the same thing when Mateo slows time?”

“Precisely. Just at a lesser scale.”

“Excellent. Now we know why I want to die when we’re in time-stop mode,” he said sarcastically.

Percy’s chains jingled. “We may be able to use this to our advantage. When we’re slowed, they expect us to thrash around and try to escape. However, they may not expect us to use the situation to our advantage.” Her voice had a smart-ass sound to it and he liked it. “I believe that if we create some collision with an object in normal time, then we can break our handcuffs.” She felt for his arm and worked her way to his cuff, pinching the hinge. “This is the weakest point. If we hit a suitable object at this point, it may free us.”

Ramsey felt for the hinges on his cuffs, memorizing where they were. “What should we do when they come and get us?”

“The easiest solution I can see is banging our cuffs on the edge of the truck when he slows us down.”

Was that a glimmer of hope he felt? “Percy, you’re a genius!”

She chuckled. “You can say that once we’re free. Now, how’s that cut?”

He tentatively touched it, feeling warmth and stickiness from the blood. “Ya know, it might be bleeding again. Hard to tell,” he said, weighing out his words.

“Really?” Percy asked in shock. She felt for his neck again.

He grinned even though she couldn’t see it. “Nah, I’m probably fine. I just like when ya touch me.”

“Ugh, you insufferable—” She took a playful jab at his ribs. “How’s that for touching you?”

He laughed. “Sorry. I’m such a sap.” Percy leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder. It would have been nice if he weren’t handcuffed, but may as well get comfortable. There was no telling how long they would be stuck in the back of a van hurtling down the interstate.


	4. Chapter 4

The van jolted to a stop, waking Percy from her long period of uncomfortably trying to doze off. It would have been nice to sleep and restore her energy, but the stress of the situation prevented her from effectively doing so. Ramsey fell asleep earlier and had been weighing down on her shoulder, so she had shifted him to her lap where he currently snoozed away. She couldn’t help but feel a little envious. The man truly could sleep through anything. The streaks of light coming from the gaps in the door sank from yellow to blue over the hour-long drive. How far away was Mateo’s contact?

She heard doors slam and irritated voices rise. “They’ll be here in 30 minutes or so.” Mateo.

“This better be good. We pull off the heist of the century and they make us wait?” Greeves.

“Wake up,” Percy hissed, gently shaking Ramsey’s shoulder. “Remember the plan?”

“Mm hm…” he mumbled, sitting up and shaking sleep from his head.

The voices came closer and the doors swung open, revealing an alleyway full of trash bags. Even the glow from a distant street lamp made Percy flinch. A large garage door to the left broke the pattern of the brick walls. As soon as Percy stood, she was slowed.

Mateo looked exhausted and had to stabilize himself on the brick wall behind him. He held a fist to his forehead, breathing hard. His stamina must have been running out. Percy desperately hoped their plan would work in time. When Greeves reached for them, she didn’t struggle, but instead turned to face the back of the truck, swinging her hands down as hard as she could. Her hands slowly, painfully slowly, approached the edge of the floor until finally… CLANG. Her wrists erupted in fiery pain as pieces of handcuff shattered and flew away. Just incrementally. But it had worked.

Percy grinned as memories of her epithet rushed back to her. She wiggled her fingers and beside her rose one of the finest wizard towers she had ever constructed. A blinding bolt of lighting arced from the tower. Electricity crackled in the air, an unstoppable force of nature, the bolt hardly slowed by the boy’s epithet. She felt like the star at the climax of a dramatic war film. Their captors hardly had time to react before they were struck down.

Mateo wailed, his hold on time releasing. Greeves caught himself on the wall before collapsing. She looked over at Ramsey, who stared back in awe. Her eyes darted to his wrists. Only one cuff was broken. He flashed an apologetic grin. No matter. While the janitor was down, she ran to tackle him, searching his pockets. Still recovering, Greeves thrashed and threw out punches that didn’t quite land, his eyes failing to focus. Her fingers wrapped around the key ring and she jumped away, tossing the keys to Ramsey.

In that time, Mateo managed to rise, swaying. “Do it, Greeves!” he shouted.

Greeves rose to his full height. “It’s time to use my epithet,” he growled. “Riptide!” He swung a large hand upward and with it came a surge of water. Waves of water gently sloshed across the alleyway and up the walls, leaving pools of standing water and spraying everyone with a pleasant shower. It was rather refreshing, if a little cold.

Percy’s hair flopped in her eyes and she shook it away, water pouring off of her in sheets. Her clothes clung to her uncomfortably. Ramsey wiped water out of his eyes and cast away his handcuffs, shoving the keys in his pocket. “That was a riptide?” he asked, throwing out a hand to emphasize how underwhelmed he was.

Mateo rose and rolled his eyes. “His epithet is actually ‘splash,’ but he thinks ‘riptide’ sounds more intimidating,” he said, quite annoyed. He shrunk at the livid glare Greeves shot him.

“The point is,” the janitor growled, “water makes for a great conductor. You either kill all of us or none of us!”

Percy squinted at the boy, who was shivering and leaning against the wall. Water soaked into her socks. The janitor was right. With no more weapons, they had to finish it quickly. Hand-to-hand combat was the only option. Percy eyed their opponents, sizing them up. Greeves could overpower her easily, but she had a better chance of beating him than Ramsey did. She wasn’t sure if her partner even knew how to throw a punch. Mateo looked to be on the verge of passing out, hopefully signaling that his stamina was run through.

Percy closed her eyes and took a deep breath. This was it. She ran at Greeves and leapt through the air, landing a dropkick on the man’s face. A sharp crack sounded and both of them collapsed to the ground, Greeves holding his bleeding nose. “Nice hit!” Ramsey called behind her.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Mateo slinking away. No matter. Escape was their top priority. Scrambling to her feet, she prepared to hit Greeves again only to roll away as the janitor whipped out the gun. She hastily pushed herself up and stomped on Greeves’ hand. He roared in pain and the gun skidded across the ground, splashing water in its wake. She jumped on his back and pushed him down, getting him in a chokehold. The janitor clawed at her, but it was no use. He collapsed and Percy stepped away. The next thing she heard was the gun cocking.

***

The gun clattered across the ground as Percy wrestled with the janitor. Ramsey dove for it, but it flew just beyond his fingertips. His eyes followed its trail to Mateo’s feet. The kid snatched it, splashing water outward, and held it to his chest. Behind Ramsey, the janitor passed out. Mateo clenched his teeth as a look of fury contorted his face. He fumbled with the gun for a moment before he pulled the hammer and pointed toward them. Ramsey felt Percy at his side, but he stepped in front of her, turning to gold as he did so. It looked like things might get ugly.

“Put that down,” Ramsey said, taking a tentative step toward Mateo. “It’s over.”

Mateo was a cornered animal turning feral. “You think I’ll just give it up? I _have_ to do this,” he snarled.

“Hey, grand theft and forgery is plenty to deal with. You don’t want to add a murder charge, do ya? Can you stand having blood on your hands just for money?” He took another step forward.

“There’s hundreds of millions in that truck,” Mateo said, struggling to stand. “I’d say that’s worth anyone’s life.” As Ramsey approached, the kid became more frantic. “Do you even realize what will happen if you stop me?” he shouted. “That money means food and a roof for me, my sister, and her baby. I’ve introduced you, right? That money is keeping her alive!” His voice was getting louder and higher. Backing away did nothing as the brick wall soon met his back. Tears poured ferociously over his cheeks. “Do you have any idea how expensive the baby’s heart treatments are? Her life depends on my success!” The kid had always been quick to anger, but Ramsey never realized why. It always seemed like he was about to break under stress like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. In reality, he literally was bearing the burdens of his family.

“Your crimes cannot be ignored,” Percy said. “But I promise you, we will ensure the safety of your sister and her baby.”

“That sounds like a sweet deal,” Ramsey said. “You should take it.”

“No,” Mateo hissed. His chest was heaving and he raised the gun. “I’m not letting my niece get shipped off to foster care.” The thought made Ramsey falter. He wasn’t really a kid person, but he hated seeing children neglected or ignored. No one deserved to feel that way.

“Just calm down,” Ramsey said. “You know that won’t kill me.” Ramsey was only a few steps away from taking the gun.

“Yeah, I know,” Mateo hissed.

Ramsey couldn’t move. The kid still had stamina left? Before he could react, a shot rang through the air. Mateo had crawled out of Ramsey’s reach, the gun smoking in his hand.

Ramsey’s heart strained against the slowed time. Ice filled his lungs. He was horrified to even think about what just happened. He had to do something fast. The closest thing he could touch was the brick wall, only inches away. The grip on time was getting weaker, so he slapped his hand to the wall with all the force he could muster. He had never done this before, but it had to work. Gold spread from the tips of his fingers, transmuting the bricks beside him. But it didn’t stop there. Gold spread to other bricks and rushed across the ground. Whirls of water froze into ripples of gold. Bags of trash that were rustling in the breeze became golden and stiff. Gold crawled up Mateo’s legs as he struggled to get away. The entire alleyway, everything, even things he couldn’t directly touch, were engulfed in gold.

Ramsey collapsed as the effects of time normalized, the ground swaying beneath him. Black spots popped in his vision. It had taken all of his stamina to perform such a feat. His consciousness was beginning to swing out of his grasp. It was hard to tell, but he may have passed out for a few minutes. He sat up, holding his head between his knees. When he felt more stable, he rose, although the world still tilted around him.

Mateo was nothing more than a statue. Looking to the left he saw a large lump of gold, probably the janitor. Terror gripped his body. He didn’t want to turn around. It was his responsibility to protect her. If only he had moved faster. His footsteps were harshly metallic as he stepped toward Percy’s golden figure. She gripped her left side, her eyes squeezed shut. Her pain was frozen in time. He wished that he was the one bleeding out. Ramsey knelt beside her and touched her arm, turning both Percy and himself back to normal.

“Augh,” she groaned through clenched teeth. “What happened?” She tried to sit up, but Ramsey pushed her back down. There was a slowly growing pool of blood. He gently moved her hand to look at the wound. The bullet had caught her side, an inch or so above her hip. If it was even a few more centimeters to the side, it would have only been a graze. It didn’t look like it would have hit any organs, but he was no doctor. He pressed her hand back over it and helped apply pressure.

“D-don’t speak,” he said. “You got shot. We have to go to the hospital.” He couldn’t hide the urgency in his voice. He had never been so terrified in his entire life. His lungs screamed to breath faster, but he kept breathing as steadily as he could.

“No shit! What happened after?”

“I turned everything to gold.”

“Everything,” she whispered, looking around. Her eyes seemed unfocused. “How long can you keep it like this?”

“Up to a day.”

“Excellent! We’ll send more able officers to arrest them tomorrow. You have the keys, right? Let’s take the paintings to the station.”

“That’s not our top priority right now!” Ramsey said, appalled. “Have you forgotten the _bullet_ in your abdomen?” She must have been losing her mind. That fixation on justice was going to kill her one day. He wrapped an arm around her back. She threw an arm over his shoulders and gripped the front of his shirt with her other hand. “Think you can stand?” he asked softly.

Percy nodded, another wave of agony coming over her face. She nearly collapsed as he helped her into the passenger’s seat of the van. He clicked her seatbelt into place and made sure the doors at the back of the van were shut. There was no time to lose. Stomach sinking, he sat in the driver’s seat and started the truck.

“Oh no,” he muttered, looking at all the pedals and buttons and levers. There were a lot of them. Which one put it in gear again? That one. But what was _that_? How did he even use the thing?

“What’s wrong?” Percy asked, her hands over the wound in her side. It was gushing blood on the seats.

“I-I haven’t driven since I lost my eye!”

“When was that?”

“Uh, maybe twelve years ago? I dunno how to work these things anymore!”

“You’re just going to have to learn,” Percy hissed, her voice under strain.

He really hoped he didn’t crash. That would be catastrophic. With adrenaline blasting through his system, he shifted it into drive and tore out of the alleyway. Looking around, he was starting to recognize the buildings. They were just on the outskirts of Sweet Jazz City. If he could make it to the interstate, he would be at the hospital in 40 minutes. If he stepped on it, he could make it in 20. He was going to drive like he never did before. But damn, why’d the city have to be so huge? Where he grew up, he could drive across town in 15 minutes.

“H-hey! Did you just run a stop sign?” Percy yelled. “The law still exists!”

“I’m sure the law will understand!” Ramsey said, taking a turn sharper than he intended. The van jolted as he went over the curb and Percy bit back a yelp of pain at the movement. “Sorry, I’ll try to be more careful! Wait, how do I turn on my headlights?”

“Oh boy,” Percy said under her breath. “It’s that thing just past the wheel.” She pointed, revealing a glove soaked with blood.

“Oh God, don’t die on me,” Ramsey whispered, turning the dial. The headlights flashed on and he turned to the on ramp, pressing the gas pedal all the way to the floor. Thankfully, there weren’t many cars on the interstate that night. He was especially grateful since he kept fishtailing around, unable to reach the perfect position in the center of the lane. Sheesh, it was like the driver’s ed nightmare all over again, but worse. Back then, he had both eyes. He chanced a glance back to Percy. Her eyes were closed and her head rested against the window. “Hey, Percy?”

She didn’t respond.

He raised his voice. “Percy, can you stay awake?”

She stirred, looking back at him blearily. “Huh?”

“Don’t fall asleep, okay? Why don’t you talk to me about something?” He gripped the wheel. If she died… 

“About what?”

“Uh… How about your childhood? Give me the unabridged chronicle of your life story and don’t stop talking ‘til we reach the hospital.”

“How much detail do you want?” she asked.

“Whatever will keep you talking.”

“Alright then… I was born two weeks prematurely at five pounds and eight ounces at 7:03 a.m.” she began.

Sheesh, that was a lot of detail. Heck, Ramsey could hardly remember when his own birthday was, let alone all that. But as long as she was talking, he knew she would be okay.

Percy talked all about her childhood in a nice rural area. She played outside a lot and loved going to school, although she struggled to make friends. When she was in high school, she became fascinated with criminal law. Her afternoons were spent watching crime shows and reading through the manuscripts of court cases. It was difficult to pick between being a lawyer and a cop, but, well, it was obvious what she ended up doing. Any time she would fall silent or her words started to slur, Ramsey would ask her another question. Sometimes just saying her name was enough to keep her going. Every minute dragged on, but each one brought them closer to the hospital.

“Is that the exit I need to take?” Ramsey asked.

“Yes. Don’t forget to signal.”

“Thanks.” He checked the clock, which read 10:23. Waiting at the red light was torture, but the hospital was so close. He could see it rising above the surrounding buildings. When the light flashed green, he slammed the gas, his eyes darting to the speedometer. Sirens started to blare, making him jump. “Those aren’t for us, are they?” he asked, trying to mask his panic.

“Are you doing anything wrong?” she replied, looking out the window for the source of the sounds.

“I’m speeding.”

“Ramsey!”

“It’s just a little bit, I promise.” He turned the wheel and the van screeched into the parking lot of the hospital. Turning into maybe two and a half parking spaces, he slammed the brakes, stopping the van with a jolt. Unfortunately, he heard the sirens follow them. He hopped out of the truck only to be stopped by an officer.

“Did you know you were going 30 miles over the limit?” the cop asked with incredulity.

“Yeah, it was sort of an emergency,” Ramsey muttered, trying to get to Percy’s side of the van. The officer grabbed his arm before he could move.

“Hold on! What are you doing? Why are you covered in blood?” the cop asked, his voice becoming less friendly.

“Look, I’ll take the ticket later. She needs help!” He tried to yank his arm away, but the officer’s grip was firm.

“Are you under the influence of alcohol or narcotics?”

“Wha— No! Let go of me!” Ramsey shouted, becoming more frantic. Didn’t they see that Percy was dying?

At that point, the officer’s partner came out of the car. He recognized her. She must have been that ginger cop that was Percy’s friend. “If you’ll calm down sir—”

Ramsey just couldn’t break from the officer’s grip. It didn’t help that he was exhausted. “I need to help her!”

Meryl peered inside of the van and screamed. She looked at Ramsey in horror then ran to help her friend. Percy had fallen unconscious and sagged in Meryl’s arms. Blood had soaked nearly half of her shirt. Meryl ran to the hospital’s entrance as fast as she could, partially dragging Percy.

Ramsey finally stopped struggling. She was safe. Before he could say anything, the cop slammed him against the hood of the van, the hot metal striking his head painfully. “Hey, what the hell!”

“What did you do?” the cop shouted, voice shaking with rage.

“What are you talking about?” Ramsey shot back.

“You’re that convict that was helping Detective King on that case! We should have known better than to let you out of your cell!”

“You think I’m tryin’ to escape or something?” Ramsey thrashed against the cop’s grip, but the man only pushed him harder into the hood. “What part of this looks like an escape to you?” His throat was raw from all the shouting.

“All I know is that Detective King is shot and you were the only person found with her! You’re our prime suspect!”

Ramsey’s blood roared in his ears and his chest burned and his muscles ached. The cop forced him into eraser cuffs behind his back and had to wrestle with him all the way to the cruiser. Ramsey didn’t know what to do except for fight. He wanted to be in the hospital with Percy, to be there for her in case she was scared. Eventually, the cop shoved him into the backseat and slammed the door shut. Ramsey panted, trying to catch his breath. He leaned back against the seat and squeezed his eyes shut. There was only the sound of distant traffic. It all went downhill so fast. He didn’t know if Percy was going to live or die. She was alert and aware on the whole 23 minute drive, so hopefully that was a good sign.

The cop popped his head through the front door. “Is that all the stolen artwork in the back of the vehicle?”

Ramsey nodded.

“I’m going to check on Detective King. Don’t move until I get back.”

“Sure.” The door slammed and the cop jogged to the hospital’s entrance. Ramsey was alone. He rested his head on the seat in front of him, shaking slightly. His mind felt blank, too tired to think. He felt empty inside. Tears ran down his left cheek and he sobbed silently in the long minutes that stretched on.

***

Percy felt as if she were floating, completely disconnected from the physical plane. Except for the explosive agony in her side. She could vaguely see some darkness and then light… too bright. A white room. People shouting. Asking her questions that she couldn’t process or respond to. She shook her head, trying to come back to herself. Over the car ride, she felt like this a few times, but she always bounced back. But this time, the comfort of velvety blackness called to her. She hoped that the mission—whatever it was, she couldn’t quite recall—would end well.

Where was Ramsey?

***

Three hours later, Ramsey was in a holding cell at the police station. He sat on the edge of the bench with his elbows on his legs and his head in his hands. He gnawed on the inside of his cheek. It all passed by in a blur. Interrogations, disgusted looks, worried faces. He told the story of what happened in as much detail as he could possibly remember, trying to recite times and locations. He felt confident that aggravated battery and grand theft wouldn’t be added to his criminal record after they did some investigating, but the detectives he spoke to were slow to believe him. Percy hadn’t been able to corroborate his story as she was undergoing surgery. So they waited, their distrust of him apparent. They didn’t want to waste any manpower if his story was false. But they also didn’t want to indict him without proper evidence. If only they would just do _something._

The one thing he really wanted them to do was tell him about Percy. No one updated him on her condition. No one even spoke to him once the interrogations were over. His exhausted mind begged for sleep, but he couldn’t. He wished he had a watch.

There was one other person in the cell with him, staring at the blood stains on his shirt. “What’re you in here for?” the girl asked.

“Don’t talk to me.”

The girl laughed nervously. “You look like you murdered someone.”

Ramsey shot her a glare that shut her up. They sat in tense silence until he leaned against the wall and drifted off into an uncomfortable sleep.

***

The next morning, Ramsey jolted awake as someone shouted his name. “Murdoch! You’re needed!”

He stood up, feeling every scratch and bruise and sore muscle and cut. What he didn’t feel was well-rested. He was surprised his body could even function. Shuffling to the open cell door, he said, “What’s up? Prove me innocent yet?”

The cop nodded.

“Really?”

“We found the security footage of your kidnapping at the museum. We also found the house and the alleyway based on your description. The evidence Detective King found was more than enough to indict the kid. Apparently, Riviera was supposed to drop off the artwork in that garage and wait for his contact to arrive. We understand that you turned everything to gold?”

Ramsey nodded, remembering the scene. Thinking back, he might have gone a tad overboard with the gold. It must have looked insane to anyone that found it without context.

“Would you kindly turn everything back to normal? We have boys at the scene now.”

Ramsey shrugged. “I have to touch it to turn it back, but it’ll wear off soon enough.”

Annoyance crossed the cop’s face, but he spoke on his radio to repeat the information.

“What now?” Ramsey asked.

“You can either go to your prison cell or you can visit Detective King. She has requested your presence.”

Percy was okay? And asked to see him? He couldn’t believe it. “I’d like to visit her,” he said numbly. It took every bit of self-restraint he had to hide his excitement and relief. The ride was incredibly awkward with that cop accompanying him, but he didn’t mind too much. The inside of the hospital was white and pristine, nurses and patients filling the room. He felt very uncomfortable. No one spoke to them, but Ramsey’s blood-stained shirt received several looks, ranging from concerned to confused. The cop guided him to the room and stood outside. Ramsey’s fingers rested on the handle of the door. Would she be as happy to see him and he was to see her? Would she be upset? Mad at him? Was she still in pain? One way to find out.

Stepping in the room disturbed the blissful quiet. There was a bedside table with a vase of flowers on it. The window was open slightly, the curtains flowing gently in the pleasant breeze. Percy was on the bed, staring at the clouds outside, one hand tapping away and the other idly twisting her blanket. She looked around at hearing his footsteps and all the worrying and despair washed away. She looked like an angel.

“Hi, Ramsey.” Her voice was soft and a little tired. The hospital gown was loose on her figure.

He pulled up a chair and sat next to her. “Hey, doll. You doin’ alright?”

“Yes.” It was nice to see her smile. “Luckily, the bullet struck no vital organs and they were able to remove it. I should be discharged by next week.”

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” he said, a grin spreading across his face. “I was so scared that you were gonna die.”

Percy laughed and her hair bounced with the movement. “The second time in two days! It must be an exciting life we live.”

“No kidding. Next time, let’s do something more tame.” He said it without thinking of all that the suggestion entailed.

“I agree. It would be… nice to spend some quality time without the burden of upholding justice or the threat of death looming over us.” She looked at her hands with a faint pinkness tinting her ears.

“Not a bad idea… A-anyway, you hear anything about the case?”

Percy looked back at him with vigor in her eyes. “Yes. Mateo and Greeves will be arrested, at least, once they aren’t gold anymore, and then they will receive a fair and speedy trial. However, the evidence we found is quite conclusive to say the least, so they’ll likely be put away for some time. Mateo’s sister and niece will be well-off. I explained the situation and a local charity has pitched in for her treatments.”

“Looks like we’ve brought down the righteous hammer of justice, eh?”

“You make a very good bringer of justice.”

“Thanks…” The compliment felt strange, considering who he was. He couldn’t help but feel guilty.

Ramsey dreaded the moment when he ran out of things to say, but it came anyway. There were so many questions that begged to be asked, but even if he knew how to word them, he was too afraid of hearing the answers to try.

“Thank you, by the way,” Percy murmured, taking his hand. She was warm.

“For what? Feels like I’ve just gotten you into trouble.” The mistakes he made weighed on his back. They were fortunate enough that his failures didn’t bring any worse outcomes.

“You’ve saved my life. There were several opportunities that you could have used to escape, but you stayed by my side, even risking your safety. That's quality only the bravest possess.”

He winced at the kind words. Surely, she was delusional because he didn’t deserve such high praise at all. He knew for a fact that he could never be as selfless or dedicated or wonderful as Percy. Heck, she’d already saved his hyde roughly 400 times. “Nah, I’m just some criminal that doesn’t know how to fight.”

She brushed the healing cut on his throat and placed a hand on his cheek. He leaned in to her touch. “Perhaps, but I know that you’re a good person.”

“Glad someone thinks so,” he mumbled with a shrug.

Percy rolled her eyes and pulled him into a hug. He shrank away, but she didn’t let go. At first he didn’t reciprocate because he was afraid to hurt her, which he was, but he realized that the closer they came together, the harder it would be when they were torn apart. It was silly of him to believe that it would ever work when they were from separate worlds. He had never been so close to anyone in his life and the thought of sitting alone in a prison cell was unbearable. Eventually, he wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly. He would savor every moment with her.

***

After a minute, Percy pulled away. She hated letting go, but the wound in her side insisted upon it. The feelings of warmth and safety and just touching someone she cared about were addicting. Looking away, she pressed a hand to her side, unsuccessfully dulling the sting.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” Ramsey asked. She could see that he was biting his cheek.

“Not at all. That’s just the unfortunate nature of being shot,” she dismissed. In actuality, the action did cause quite a bit of irritation, but she thought it would be better if he didn’t know that.

Ramsey winced as if feeling phantom pain just from looking at her. “I… I really am sorry. If I could switch places with you, I would.”

Percy cocked her head. “We could if you’d like, but I’m unsure of what problems that would solve.”

He bit back a grin and chuckled, causing her to realize that he meant it in the context of their situations, not their literal positions. “You’re too sweet, doll.”

Percy couldn’t help but smile as well. She really liked Ramsey. It took effort to resist the urge to get up and move around, but the conflagration in her side convinced her to stay still. Instead, she held back her stimming and let her elation bubble over inside of her.

“What happens next?” Ramsey asked morosely.

Percy absent-midedly tapped her chin. That was the question she was also dreading. Now that she had worked with him, gotten to know him, she never wanted to be without him. Was that too mushy? Maybe, but it was how she felt. It was the same cold despair she felt the night after Redwood Run, the threat of a life alone. However, not all was lost. “I don’t know, but I have a feeling things may turn in your favor.”

A sharp knock sounded and the door opened, the cop popping his head in. “Let’s go, Murdoch!”

***

They waved to each other before Ramsey turned around. He wanted so desperately to look back, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it, instead shutting the door with a soft click. “Back to prison,” the cop said. Ramsey was glad to leave the boxy hallways of the hospital, but it hurt to think of what he was leaving behind.

***

Ramsey laid on the bed in his cell, biting his cheek, staring at the ceiling even though he wasn’t really seeing it. He hadn’t moved in so long his body felt numb. With nothing to do and no one to talk to, he preferred spending his free time like that. It had been nice to take up that case, contribute to society a bit. Spend time with Percy. The whole thing made him feel complete for the first time in a while. There was so much more to his life than living day to day, doing art commissions and scamming a few companies here and there. He actually did something, and for other people. After doing all that, he felt more empty than ever before. He sat alone at meals. He sat alone in the courtyard. Maybe he should bother to make friends or even just talk to the other inmates. He was going to be there a long time anyway, so might as well spend the years doing something instead of nothing. But he had no motivation to do so. One thing he had done, though, was talk to the psychologist that worked at the prison. It was an… interesting experience, but he felt like his mind was somewhere else the whole time. Other than that, the last week since coming back had all been completely nothing.

An ear-splitting metallic knock made him jolt upward so quickly that he kneed himself in the chest. “Oof! Uh, what?”

Percy stood in the open doorway with a smile and one raised eyebrow. “You don’t want to play with the other kids?” Her hands were behind her back.

Ramsey hastily stood, rubbing his collarbone. “Nah, they seem like the type to murder me in my sleep. What are you doin’ here? Feeling alright?” He could just make out the bulk of bandages underneath her shirt.

“The healing process has been taxing, but I’m here on official business.” She revealed a suit, a crisp shirt, and a red tie folded neatly in her hands. “Get dressed. You have a parole conference in an hour.”

“P-parole? Already?” Ramsey took the clothes, astonished. “I thought I had, like, 90-odd more hours of community service!”

Percy beamed and happily rocked back and forth, shaking her hands in excitement. “That is correct, but I talked with a few people and told them how you went above and beyond over the course of our partnership. After hearing my glowing recommendation, they decided to cut a few corners. You’ve really earned it.”

“Seriously? That—that’s amazing!” Ramsey couldn’t believe the sheer luck. He was truly lucky to have known Percy.

“I’ll be back in a few minutes. I still have some people to talk to,” she said.

Ramsey changed as quickly as he could, tying his tie into a horrendously uneven knot, but he didn’t care. When Percy came back, a look of exasperation came over her face as she told him that his buttons were in the wrong holes. “At least let me help with your tie,” she said, straightening it. He walked behind her and out the front doors, flashing grins at all the guards and prisoners he could see. He felt the glorious sunlight as a pretty-much free man for the first time in… a week. It had felt like years.

“This time, this really is a getaway car,” he said, receiving only an eye roll from Percy. They got in the car on their respective sides.

“I’ll take you down to the courthouse. All you have to do is agree to the terms they set,” Percy said, starting the car.

“What kinda terms are we talkin’?”

“You must agree to respect and uphold the law.”

“Uh huh.”

“You must continue to work with the police force.”

“Sounds good.”

“You’ll live in an apartment provided by the state.”

“Nice.”

“And you’ll have to impress your parole officer whenever she checks in.”

Ramsey leaned back in his seat. “Who’s that gonna be?”

Percy drove down the busy streets full of afternoon traffic with a smile, her fingers vigorously tapping the wheel. “Take a wild guess.”

“Heh, thanks Percy,” he said with a laugh.

“After this is over, would you like to visit the museum’s new art exhibit?”

“Yeah, I’ve been dyin’ to check out the real deal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! All of the awesome comments have made me flap my hands in excitement at my keyboard! It really means a lot. AO3 really has a great community.
> 
> Also, I edited this chapter slightly to add a blurb from Percy's perspective just after they get to the hospital. So if anyone happens to read it again, no, you're not going crazy.


End file.
